


Garnet Hearts

by Minty_Pixie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Byun Baekhyun - Freeform, Do Seungsoo - Freeform, Eventual Romance, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jung Yein - Freeform, Kim Jongdae - Freeform, Kim Yerim - Freeform, Korean Dynasties, Lee Jongsuk - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Princes, Slow Build, Son Seungwan - Freeform, minimally conscious state
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 50,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13638450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minty_Pixie/pseuds/Minty_Pixie
Summary: Through the faded hues of lingering seasons, Prince Jongin tries to find the spark that could set his heart alight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ticket No. 537  
> Time Period : Korean Dynasties
> 
> Author’s Note : Hi there ! I’m happy you clicked on the link to read this !  
> Before anything, I need to thank T, from the bottom of my heart. She knows why. So thank you, you’re awesome, I love you.  
> Now about the prompt, since it was both vague and straightforward, and it was any/any, it gave me a lot of freedom. So really, thank you to the prompter. I hope you’ll like this, if you read it (and if you do, please, tell me it was you, so I can properly shower you with love !).  
> I honestly have so, so much I want to say about this story. But I wouldn't know where to start, so I guess it’s better if I just let you read it.  
> ...Enjoy !  
> Wait, maybe grab a drink and a snack, first. This is long.

 

  
Jongsuk and Yein are everything Jongin is not.

His elder brother is tall and strong. He is solemn and purposeful. His shoulders are broad, his stance is overpowering, and his gaze is relentless. He never says more than he has to, but the respect everyone has for each of his words is outstanding.  
Jongsuk is the firstborn. He is a Prince. The Crown Prince. And one day, he will be a King.

Jongin’s twin sister is everything a Princess must be. She is beautiful, elegant and caring. Her smile is kind, her eyes are benevolent. Her skin is porcelain white, her voice is as soft as the wind, and her laugh sounds like the prettiest melody.  
Yein is the only daughter of their family. She is a Princess. She has been betrothed to a Crown Prince the day she was born. And one day, she will be a Queen.

Jongin is just Jongin. He is too shy to talk most of the time, too fearful to step out of line. When he does speak, his voice is too rushed and not clear enough. He is too sensitive and not tough enough. His smile is too wide, his laugh, too loud, his skin, too dark and his handwriting, not neat enough.   
Jongin is the second son. The second in line of succession to the throne if, Heavens forbid it, something should ever happen to his brother before he produces an heir. He is always too much, or just not enough. He is just Prince Jongin. And one day, perhaps, that feeling of being nothing more than a ghost haunting the Palace would become a reality.  


 ♚

  
All his life, Jongin has learnt to be invisible. He was not meant to inherit the Throne, nor was he meant to have any sort of power, authority or influence. From what he understood, he was not even meant to exist. The King and Queen already had a son and were expecting another child they wished was a girl.

The second Yein breathed for the first time, their family should have been complete. But to everyone’s surprise, the Queen had started feeling pain in her abdomen again, and an hour later, a small and frail Jongin had let out his first cry.

Bearing twins was not common, even less in Royal families. So no one had expected the Queen to give birth to a pair of children, that morning. It was not planned. And Jongin’s life felt exactly like that. Nothing had been planned for him. He was the one who had no mean. The unnecessary child.

Even his name was merely a combination of his siblings’ ones.

Three was one too many, as he had heard a Court Lady whisper one day. Jongin believed those were wise words.

His parents loved him, of course, or so he hoped, and he had never been purposefully neglected. But he never felt like a real part of the family. More like a bystander. A child that had been forced onto them. One they did not really know what to do with. So he had always more or less been left wandering around the Palace and courtyards while his siblings were being prepared for their bright futures.

Obviously, he had learnt how to read and write and was taught all the basic rules of decency and social interactions, so he would be able to properly behave during Royal events that required his presence. Not that he was truly needed, but people would have talked if he had never made an appearance.  
Apart from that, as long as he abstained poking his nose where he should not, nothing much was asked of him.

And as his brother learnt about sword fights, horse riding and politics, Jongin learnt not to interfere. As his sister learnt the rules of etiquette, protocol, and mediation, Jongin learnt how to entertain himself alone.

 

Fortunately, since he was not being monitored as closely as his siblings, he had been able to make friends in the Palace.

Baekhyun was the carefree son of the Court Physician and was more often than not found feeding the ducks near the pond, while he sang cheerful melodies he would randomly come up with. Jongin had met him when he was six. Yein had left him to attend one of her daily lessons, and since, as per usual, his parents were both occupied, and Jongsuk was nowhere to be seen, Jongin ended up in the stables once more, seated on a large barrel, watching the horses being fed. He saw a small boy sneak in and snatch a little wicker basket full of stale bread and had decided to follow him. If the boy had been intimidated by the Prince talking to him when they arrived near the pond, he showed none of it. Not that he had any valid reason to be nervous; Jongin was not important enough to be feared. They sealed their friendship with a handshake over the little crowd of hungry ducks nipping at their legs. It was not exactly proper for a Prince to be seen playing with a child of lower rank, but since he kept joining the boy every time he could, even after having been scolded a couple of times, nobody bothered anymore. Again, he was not really worth bothering anyway.

There was also Seungwan, who was one of the Court Ladies assigned to his sister. They met in a hallway when she had just arrived at the Palace and was still trying to find her ways in the giant hallway maze. He was dressed modestly that day, like most days, and the girl had stopped him to ask for directions, probably thinking he worked at the Palace too. Jongin had not had the heart to tell her he did not and had politely indicated her the way before bowing and walking away. Most days, he did not really feel like a Prince anyway. And this is what he told her, a few days later, when she tried to apologize. They were both twelve then, and again, even if he was not supposed to be seen with her, people did not waste their time on warning him more than twice.

The only Royal child he could have thought of as a friend was Prince Chanyeol, who came from a Kingdom further Northwest. Although, even if the boy was only two years older than him, Jongin still was not considered as his equal. The other was a Crown Prince, since Chanyeol’s elder sister had never been regarded as the Throne heiress after the day the boy was born.  
So Jongin had let Chanyeol order him around and look down on him, teasing him about everything Jongin knew was wrong about himself. At least he could freely be seen in the company of the Crown Prince without anyone rolling their eyes.

  
Among the five Kingdoms that ruled over Korea’s lands, the only other Royal family who had children around his age, or at least ones he got to meet, was the Do’s. Jongin only went to their territory once, when he was around ten. His father needed to meet the King KwangRyul, who had recently been crowned after his sick father, King GeunHyung, had abdicated. Jongin knew the King had planned on bringing Jongsuk and Yein with him. The fifteen-year-old Crown Prince usually joined their father for this kind of official visit, and the King had judged Yein old enough to be joining as well, as she would finally be able to meet her fiancé, the new Crown Prince Seungsoo. The relationship between their Kingdoms had never been exactly good. It was more about tolerating each other than being allies, and their marriage had been arranged to appease the tensions between the two Royal families.  
Jongin had asked if he could come as well, and his father not finding any valid reason to refuse, he had been allowed to travel with them.

The two never-ending weeks it took for their carriage to ride from their Palace to the Do’s had been strenuous, and he nearly regretted asking if he could join. Jongin was restless, spine sore and legs tingling from sitting all day long in the confined space. His father and brother had only been conversing about military tactics, and the word games Yein agreed to play with him only entertained him for a short amount of time. So he spent most of the journey drifting in and out of sleep. He dreamt about waves caressing the shore and seagulls squawking in the azure sky. When he was awake, he drew childish figures and crooked horizon lines in the condensation forming on the window, the temperature outside gradually dropping as they entered the Do’s Kingdom.

His own family living in the southeastern part of Korea, Palace towering over endless beaches and facing the East Sea, Jongin was used to the warmth of the sun kissing his skin and the sea mist hitting his face, salt clinging to his lashes and drying his lips. He had never learnt how to swim, of course, as it would not be proper for a Prince to be seen with soaked clothes. But sometimes, when the sea was not too agitated, and nobody was looking, he took off his boots, rolled up his pants and dipped his feet into the calm, warm waters.

All Jongin had ever known was uninterrupted shorelines stretching as far as the eye can see. His ears knew by heart the sound of the steady tide licking the golden sand and leaving bubbly patterns as it crawled back where it belonged. His mind always sang along with the summer rain lapping on the navy waters, delicate melody carried away by the whistling wind. His tongue could never forget the taste of the ocean spray dancing around his small body in a saline ballet glistening in the air.  
This was all Jongin had ever known, in his ten years of existence.

So when the carriage they traveled in passed the border of the Do’s kingdom, wheels bumping on the rocky road winding through the mountains, Jongin’s first reaction had been to forget sleep in favor of gluing his face against the window, and let his eyes roam the eerie highland scenery surrounding them.

As the days went by, craggy hills and sharp white-covered peaks had kept filling his vision, overlapping one another, cutting the skyline in foggy fang-like shapes.  
Jongin had read about snow in some old books he found in the library when he was younger. He remembered wishing he would one day see what was described as a blanket of milky-white powder. It sounded magical. And now that he witnessed it, he could not stop smiling, the landscape looking more beautiful than he had ever imagined.  
The faint sunlight grazing the mountains made the snow twinkle, reminding him of his beloved sea sparkling in the afternoon glow; It looked ethereal. He had heard his father once tell Yein that here, snow could be seen on top of the highest peaks until the beginning of summer. Jongin had been surprised, himself having never seen snow falling. But his sister had explained to him that, since the Do’s Kingdom extended up to the Chinese frontier and ruled over the whole northeast part of Korea, most of their lands were a nest of mountains with a very different climate than the one Jongin was used to. He had stored the fascinating information in his mind, hoping he could one day have the chance to travel there.

Therefore, when Yein had announced him she would go, he had been quick to ask for the permission to join. And he was glad he did, despite the cold biting his fingertips through the frost-covered window.

Spring was nearly ending the day they finally arrived at the Do’s Palace. But what meant lush green plains and warm sea breeze was indeed very different here.  
Jongin had to tighten his winter coat around his shivering thin body to try to protect himself from the strong wind swiping the narrow valley the Do’s Palace rested in, until his family had been invited to step inside. It had not been much warmer inside.

The five members of the Do’s family were waiting for them in the Throne room, polite but obviously forced smiles adorning their faces. They looked imperial in Jongin’s young eyes, with their iridescent cobalt blue clothes, glistening with silver embroideries. He could feel Yein shiver next to him as they walked to meet them; He was not sure if it was from the cold or the excitement of meeting her future family.

They had looked surprised to see him, at first, but a moment later, they already seemed to have lost interest in his insignificant self. He had not been offended, though. He knew why they were here, had been warned he would need to be on his best behavior, that one misstep could have disastrous consequences.  
The greetings between the two families were courteous, although Jongin could feel the tension lying under the surface. He knew both Kingdoms had been closely watching each other for decades. From what he understood, since he was not bold enough to ask anything about it, the Do’s had been waiting for the right moment to try to overthrow his family’s power. Rumors said their army was quite merciless when it came to invading territories. People talked about the unyielding new King, who could hold you still by the only intensity of his stare. Or about the Queen, who seemed to have more power than her husband and would not hesitate to have someone executed for the most trivial reason if she deemed it an affront to her royal self.  
It might have only been hearsays, but Jongin knew this conflict was why Yein had been promised to their first-born, even before he officially became the Crown Prince, as his grandfather was still ruling when he was born. But he had always been bound to become King, one day. And that engagement was the way of ensuring the flickering peace between their Kingdoms would get reinforced.

But as he stared at them, Jongin could only think about how beautiful and surreal they looked, heads held high and unwavering gazes.  
His sister gracefully bowed and introduced herself in front of the Queen, catching everyone’s attention, so Jongin had taken this opportunity to let his eyes roam in the gigantic room. Everything was so different from home, and it was a lot to take in.  
A movement in his peripheral vision brought his focus back on the shortest person in front of them.

The boy was fidgeting on his feet, looking like he wanted nothing more than being done with those formal introductions, before a brief but threatening glare from his elder brother had forced him to still.  
Yein’s giggles and the Royal couple’s delighted laughter had mixed in Jongin’s mind as he tilted his head, eyes still on the youngest Do son.

The boy, who he knew was only one year his elder, had the biggest eyes Jongin had ever seen. Wilder than Prince Chanyeol’s, which said a lot. And Jongin swore he could see the reflection of every single torch burning in the room inside his dark orbs. When the Prince had turned his gaze towards him, Jongin had offered him a jolly smile. Perhaps they could be friends, and the elder could give him a tour of the Palace later ?  
His enthusiasm was however not returned, and the boy’s impassive stare had returned to where Jongin’s sister stood, in front of the old former King.  
Jongin tried to not let his disappointment show as his smile fell. Of course he would be ignored. Prince Kyungsoo probably did not even know who he was.

But on their way back home a week later, Jongin could not help but feel sad. As expected, no one had paid him much attention, and he mostly got confused looks thrown at him on the few moments he left his guest room and ventured in the Palace on his own.  
The only real highlight of their stay had been meeting a boy who worked there and reminded him of Baekhyun a lot. Jongdae was his name, as he had merrily introduced himself after almost running into Jongin, arms full of dirty dishes. They had talked for a bit, the servant seeming overjoyed to meet a foreign Prince, carefree enough to even laugh at Jongin’s different accent. He, unfortunately, had had to leave promptly and rush to the kitchen to avoid being scolded for taking so long.

Yein had however managed to brighten his mood by recounting everything she did with her future family, and he had ended up smiling along with her, happy to hear the Do’s seemed enchanted by the Princess. It was a crucial trip for his sister. For his Kingdom. He should not have been feeling so down.

   
♚

   
A few days after their twelfth birthday, the Princess had started complaining about pain in her lower abdomen. Jongin’s worry had grown each day during the following weeks, whenever he heard the Court Ladies talking about it in rushed whispers. He would have liked to check on his sister, but no one was allowed in her chamber except for the Queen, the Court Physician, and the Princess' personal maids.  
Until one evening, as he entered the dining room, one of her Court Ladies had made an announcement to the Royal couple.

“Her Royal Highness Yein is bleeding, your Majesties.”

Jongin did not really understand why everyone had been suddenly so excited, smiling and rushing to the Princess' bedroom. He had followed his brother anyway, slightly confused, trying to walk as fast as his short legs could, to avoid being left behind. If Yein was injured badly enough to bleed, why did everyone look so happy ?

He got an answer a few days after, when he had hesitantly asked his personal tutor.

“The Princess' body is now mature enough to give birth to a child.”

Jongin still quite did not get how this had to do with his sister bleeding, and twelve years old seemed way too young to carry a baby, but he nodded before returning to the book he was studying. He had been bold enough to ask one question, he did not want to be reminded he was not supposed to. It was already surprising his professor had even bothered replying.

But he still wondered why his mother had ordered for an official letter from their Court-Physician to be sent to the Do’s Queen without delay.

After that event, Yein had been invited to the Do’s Palace more and more every year, only traveling with their mother most of the time, and one or two of her personal Court Ladies. Jongin did not ask to join them anymore, no matter how much he missed her. He liked it better when Prince Seungsoo was the one visiting their Palace. Even if Jongin did not get to see his sister much when it happened, he was more at ease knowing she was not in the cold Do’s Palace, and just closer to him.

Jongin can say without any doubt that Yein had always been the member of his family who cared the most about him. The only one who always seemed to enjoy spending time with him and been genuinely interested in what he had to say. She would often sneak out of her room at night and join him in his own, to quietly play games or just talk. She would explain to him what she learnt during her lessons, teaching him what he seemed interested in, like Chinese language or ballroom dancing.  
She had always been the only one who made him feel like he was indeed part of this family. And he was not afraid of speaking his mind with her as much as he was with everyone else.

 

“Yein ?”

“Mmh ?”

“Do you like Prince Seungsoo ?” he asked one day, keeping his eyes on the paper filled with Chinese characters.

The silence following his question had pushed him to look at her surprised face.

“He- He is...very nice. He smiles to me a lot,” she had answered, her own lips gently curving up, “And he is very gentle and considerate. And chivalrous. He offered me this, since he could not be here for my birthday.

The girl’s fingers grazed the elegant brooch adorning the knotted part of her otgoreum. The silver rose button’s petals were inlaid with different sizes of imperial blue gemstones sparkling in the sunlight coming from the tall library’s windows. Jongin was almost sure they were sapphires. A very expensive present for a very important person, he thought, remembering the disappointment on the Princess’ face when she was told her fiancé would not be able to be present for her, their, fourteenth birthday due to a snowstorm hindering any travel from the Do’s Palace.

“I think...” she had continued, eyes on the delicate jewel, “I think I like him. I am glad he is the one I am destined to marry. I think I am very lucky.” Jongin only nodded as her smile grew shier, “Why did you ask ?” she had inquired next.

The boy had merely shaken his head, gaze falling back on the parchment in front of him.  
He knew he should have not been surprised when, a few minutes later, she decided to probe a little more. His sister had never been one to hold back asking questions; She had no reason to. She was a future Queen, and anyone would be honored to be addressed to by the Princess.  
But Jongin could not help but be taken aback. This was not a subject they had ever discussed before.

“What about you Nini ?”

“Me ?”

“Yes. Is there anyone you like ?” she had softly inquired, lightly laying down her calligraphy brush on the wooden table and looking up at her brother’s baffled expression, “Why do you look so confused ?”

“I do not... I am... Am I supposed to marry someone ?” he frowned, worried and slightly panicking she might have heard something about him that nobody had deemed necessary enough to tell him.

“What ? No. Not that I know of,” she answered, tilting her head, “But it is a good thing, right ?”

“How come ?”

“You do not have any obligation to our parents regarding marriage,” she explained, smiling gently, “You are free to choose whoever your heart cares about.” She watched his eyebrows furrow even further, and a delicate giggle had escaped her lips, “What about Seungwan ?”

“S- Seungwan ?” Jongin stuttered, growing more and more confused, and Yein nodded with an affirmative hum.

“I think she fancies you. Every time I mention your name, the girl blushes up to her hairline. It is quite entertaining to witness,” she chuckled, bringing a thin hand in front of her mouth.

“She... No. She is a friend, but I do not...”

“Baekhyun then, perhaps ?”

Jongin had nearly choked on air.

“No ! He is a boy, Yein. What are you saying ?”

“So what if he is ?”

“He is only a friend too,” he had sighed, looking down because Baekhyun being a male was not what bothered him.

Another giggle.

“Fine, I will not ask any more,” she relented, “But if one day there _is_ someone special, you have to promise you will tell me.”

This had planted a new seed of panic inside Jongin’s mind.

“Wh- Why ? Would I be in trouble ?”

“No, silly. You have to tell me because I am your sister and I want to know,” she had said as if it was obvious.

“Oh. Alright. I will tell you. But...”

“But what ?”

“I do not think I will ever have someone special,” Jongin wistfully sighed.

Rather, he did not think he could ever be special to someone.

“Of course you will ! Everyone does !”

“Everyone ?”

“Yes !”

“How will I know, then ? That this person is special ?” he had inquired shyly.

Yein hummed as she thought about how to answer, hands calmly twisting the end of her braid.

“Mom talked to me about this,” the Princess started, and Jongin had tried not to show how much the way she called the Queen makes his heart pang; Himself was only allowed to call her _Mother_ , “She said they will make you feel special. That they will celebrate you and bring out the best in you. But I think it is because this is how Dad treats her.” She paused, tilting her head again, “But I had a conversation with Queen HyeYeong, and she sees things a bit differently,” Yein smiled, Jongin’s ears recognizing the Do’s Queen’s name from all the times his sister had talked about her, “And I agree with her. I think you will know because that person will make your heart feel less heavy, when it is full of sorrow. They will be someone you can lean on, someone who will hold you and keep you afloat when you feel like everything else is drowning you.”

His eyes were locked on her pensive expression, and as much as he did not want to disrupt her thoughts, he still asked :

“Prince Seungsoo... Does he make you feel that way ?”

Light pink had instantly bloomed on his sister’s cheekbones, making him smile.

“I think it is too soon, yet. But...he could, yes. And I hope I will be that person for him too.”

  
 ♚

   
Life went by slowly as the years pass.

The Court-Physician started training his son to help him, so Jongin did not get to see Baekhyun a lot anymore. And since Seungwan always accompanied Yein during her travels to the North, the Prince ended up in the same situation he was in during his earliest years. Alone most of the time, with nothing to do but wander around, hoping something would catch his attention and divert his mind.

Nothing ever did.

He spent most of his days sitting on the beach, holding his knees as he watched the flowing tide come and go in a deep quiet hum, like a voice singing only for Jongin to hear in the afternoon glow surrounding him. The serene atmosphere he found here was the only thing able to bring him a sense of peace when his sister was away.  
And every time the sun left its celestial place to the moon, Jongin observed the dark canvas above his head, searching for a shooting star he could wish upon for his twin to come back soon.

He knew this was a childish thing to do.  
More than the fact that he had never heard of wishes coming true, there was the certitude that Yein would one day leave to never return. Whether he liked it or not, when she would be of age, she would be married to Prince Seungsoo, and Jongin would most likely never see her again.  
His mind told him to get ready for this. To prepare himself to lose the only person who ever truly cared about him. But his heart did not want to let go

He wondered if Yein would agree to exchange letters with him, when she would live with her new family. He planned on asking her as soon as she would back.

However, he never got to.

For on the summer of his seventeenth year on the Earth, the Stars decided to play him the sickest joke imaginable.

 ♚

  
It is a rainy morning when Jongin rises to the sound of panicked shouts. The gloomy light filtering between his closed curtains, so different from the warm sun rays usually invading the room, should have warned him.

Sleep still clouding his mind, he vaguely hears his mother’s voice, then his brother’s, and he forces his eyes to stay open as he wonders about the obvious distress in their tone. But the second Yein’s name is uttered in a broken sound, Jongin is standing and already stumbling towards the door.

Across the long corridor, right in front of Yein’s bedchamber, people are gathered. Jongin can hear sobs seemingly coming from a girl knelt on the wooden floor, figure and voice resembling Seungwan a lot more than he would like.  
The heavy downpour falling outside the thick windows running all along the hallway casts dark and oppressive shadows on the ground, immobilizing Jongin where he stands.

He knows his sister was supposed to return later in the afternoon. He had been impatiently waiting for days.  
What could have happened for the carriage to be here already ?

It is the sound of his mother’s harrowing cry that finally puts him in motion.  
Jongin starts walking, before breaking into a run, quickly covering the endless corridor’s distance, bare feet hitting the cold floor and heart thumping in his ears.  
The moment he steps inside Yein’s room, Jongin wishes he never woke up

He does not see his mother howling in Jongsuk’s arms, nor the King exchanging hushed words with the Court Physician. He does not notice the saddened look Baekhyun sends him from behind their fathers.

All Jongin’s eyes can see, is his sister’s body lying on her bed, skin the color of white lilies, looking just as lifeless as the meaning the flower holds.

No one seems to even notice him as he slowly walks to the bedside, wobbly legs barely holding him up. Eyes locked on Yein’s face, he involuntarily picks up some of the Doctor’s words, but his mind cannot make sense of them.  
Rainstorm. Strong winds. Unsteady carriage. Tipped over. Fell into the river. The Princess. Drowning. Dead. Revived. Unresponsive. Lethargy.

The words ring and mingle in Jongin’s ears, echoing in synchronization with the pounding in his chest. All he wants is to take Yein’s hand and hold it, yell at her to wake up, to look at him. He wants to tell her about the puppies that were born in the stables while she was away, about the old book he found at the back of the library and read in one night, about the progress he made in Chinese. He wants to see her smile as he talks about the green leaves on the trees, the red flowers in the courtyard, the sun warming his skin, the stars in the night sky and the soft white sand on the beach.  
But as the unstoppable raindrops ram against the window, Jongin feels himself take a step back. Then another.

His body turns around, and he almost trips as he breaks into a run, shoving people out of his way, flying down the hallways and pushing the heavy front doors. He does not stop, even when his lungs are screaming at him to rest, even as the torrential rain drowns him, roaring thunder barely covering the sound of his broken screams. Until his legs finally give up and Jongin lets himself hit the soaked sand in front of the raging charcoal waves crashing on the beach, heart shattering in a million sharp pieces cutting through his soul.

 ♚

  
“We cannot take our promise back. This betrothal is the only thing maintaining the peace between our Kingdoms. You know the Queen, she has a strong hold on King KwangRyul. She will not hesitate to convince him to declare us war if we do not fulfill our part.

“I know your Majesty,” the Queen nods at her husband’s statement, keeping her eyes on her hands neatly folded on her lap.

A mere two weeks had passed after that dreadful accident. Yein woke up a few days after and Jongin had been the first one at her side. But their hopes were crushed the second they realized the Princess did not seem aware of what surrounded her, never responding to the call of her name, body limp and motionless except for the occasional muscle spasms that looked unintended. But what struck Jongin the most were her eyes. Those gentle orbs that were once full of life and love were now distant and emotionless, staring into space. And just as hollow as the empty shells Jongin used to collect on the beach when he was a child.  
The boy never left her side since she had opened her eyes, insisting on staying there, holding her hand, even as the Court Physician and maids were feeding the Princess. He never looked away, attentive to her every breath, hoping she would somehow look his way and show him she was still in here, somewhere.

In vain.

Every night he fell asleep, sitting on the same chair, cradling her warm fingers against his tear-stained cheek. He vividly dreamt about her, teaching him how to waltz in the privacy of his room, smiling as she tells him about the embroidered hanbok she got as a present, laughing after he incorrectly pronounces an old Chinese proverb.  
But always, he woke up in a jolt and found her in the exact same state.  
The Doctor had said there was a chance she would regain some sort of consciousness, one day, perhaps. But the old man doubted she would ever fully recover.

So Jongin prayed. Again and again, he prayed.  
For her mind to come back. For her eyes to light up. For her smile to stretch out.  
For the Stars to forgive him.  
Because he should have felt something, anything, when it happened. He should have known.  
But as Yein was laying on the side of the river, dead, he had been comfortably sitting in his room. As his sister, his twin, was drowning in the dark river, Jongin had been leisurely reading a book.  
And now, as her mind seems gone, he is still here.  
And it is not fair, when the Princess was the one promised to such a bright and happy future.

  
“There is still a solution.”

All eyes turn to look at the Crown Prince. His gaze is determined when he silently scrutinizes the figure sited near the Princess’ bed.

Jongin looks up from where his hand is tightly holding his sister's inert one, only to see every occupant of the room staring at him. Unused to the attention he suddenly gets, he quickly lets go and adjusts his stance, sitting straight, lowering his eyes.

“But he is a boy. He will not be able to produce an heir,” the Queen says, and Jongin clearly hears the slight quiver in her voice.

“No. But they have a younger son,” the Crown Prince states.

Jongin can still feel his brother's eyes locked on his face. He does not move, just keeps on staring at the delicate embroidery on the bed sheets, as vague memories of round and dark orbs flash in the back of his mind.

“You mean...”

“It has happened before. Emperor Lu’s youngest boy wedded King Oh's third son a few years ago. Prince Sehun left the Jeju's Island Palace and lives now in China with Prince Han's family.”

A heavy silence follows the Crown Prince's words, before the King finally speaks.

“You are right, it could work.”

“He is not suitable, your Majesty,” the Queen quickly interjects in a weary voice, “He will not be able to learn everything he has to know. Our Yein spent her whole life preparing for this.”

“Then you must promptly start getting him ready,” the King replies in a final tone, “I need to travel to the Do's Kingdom to negotiate this with them.”

“You cannot, your Majesty,” the King's Chief State Councilor utters with a bow from where he stands behind the Royal couple, “King and Queen Park will be here with the Crown Prince in two days to discuss military plans.”

“I will go. I will talk to them,” Jongsuk says, and the King pensively nods.

“Then I trust you with this, son.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” Jongin's brother bows, “I will do everything in my power to maintain the peace between our Kingdoms.”

Once again, the Crown Prince's statement leads to a long silence.

“In the meantime,” the Queen says while gravely looking at her youngest son, “Nobody can know about the Princess. She will be moved into one of the Palace's isolated dependences to keep it secret.”

Jongin is too afraid to understand what they are all implying. He does not dare ask for his suspicions to be confirmed. He is not supposed to, anyway.  
Instead, he takes his Yein’s hand back in his own and silently watches her lifeless eyes blink and stare blankly at the bedroom's ceiling.

True to his mother’s words, that same evening, the Princess is secretly taken away from her bedchamber to a place Jongin is not allowed to know. He is told to go to bed early, for he will need all the rest he can get during the next few months, with the increased amount of lessons he will have to follow.

 ♚

   
Jongsuk comes back from the North when the leaves on the courtyard’s trees have started to turn copper. A month has passed, and Jongin is already worn out, exhausted by every single information his new tutors are trying to carve into his mind.

The boy, who had yet to map out some part of their own vast Palace, had been forced to learn the detailed geography of the entire country. He had spent hours bent on ragged parchments, writing down the name of every city, tracing every Kingdom border, labeling every river and every mountain, until he got everything right.  
He, who would have never known the name of his own maternal grandparents if Yein had not mentioned them, had to memorize the Do’s family tree through more generations his recently rough fingers could count. His basic knowledge of Chinese had been pushed even further, in addition to two new languages he was expected to become fluent in.  
His mornings were spent in the library, crumbling under piles and piles of heavy books, and the afternoons would see Jongin under the autumnal sun, learning archery and hawking, practicing hunting and horse-riding, training in sword-fighting and martial arts. All this, solely for the sake of being able to hold a conversation about it if he had to. Because this was the basic education a Prince was supposed to receive. He had just never been valuable enough for anyone to bother teaching him. And he will never be relevant enough to need his knowledge to be put into practice.

Every night he would fall asleep as the moon was shining brightly in the dark sky, only to be woken up before the sun even rose and sent back to the library, where one of his tutors was always waiting for him, ready to engrave more information in his tired mind.

He does not even get to see Prince Chanyeol during the Park’s visit, busy as he is learning the legend about the very first Do’s ancestor.  
And it is only because he happens to pass by the Throne room’s closed door on his way to the backyard for his archery practice, that he finds out Jongsuk is finally back. He knows eavesdropping is impolite, but he can help it when he hears his brother mention his name.

“How is Jongin doing ?”

“He seems to be learning faster than we assumed. His instructors are quite bemused,” the Queen answers, sounding puzzled herself.

“That is good. It will work in our favor,” Jongsuk replies.

“How did they react ?” the Queen continues, her voice hesitant and Jongin bites his lips in anticipation while shuffling closer to the shut door.

“Rather badly.”

“This was to be expected,” Jongin hears his father say.

“What has the Queen said ?” his mother then asks and Jongsuk lets out a long sigh.

“She did not speak,” he says, “She left the room as soon as I was done explaining. She seemed quite shaken.”

“Of course. She has every reason to be,” Jongin’s mother sympathizes.

“I did not have the chance to speak to the Princes either,” Jongsuk adds, “But the King assured me he would inform them of the situation himself.”

“Has he agreed, then ?” the King asks.

“He has, your Majesty. He wrote this letter and requested I gave it to you.”

“You did well, son. I knew I could trust you.”

“I am the Crown Prince of this Kingdom, your Majesty. It is my duty to ensure its safety.”

Jongin stares at his ink-stained fingers, eyes slowly filling with tears.

For so long, he had hoped for his existence to have a meaning, just like his siblings’ lives did. He had wished for it so many times, face lifted toward the sparkling night sky. He would have never thought all those prayers would lead to Yein ending up in the state she was in.  
Jongin would take everything back, if he could. He would go back in time and be grateful to at least be alive. His selfishness had pushed the Stars to hurt his sister, endangering the whole Kingdom.

If this is the price to pay for dreams to come true, he does not want any of it.

But he cannot turn back time now. He only has to swallow back the tears and get used to the constant feeling of guilt that will drown his heart for the rest of his life.  
As much as he hates it, he has a purpose in life now. And he cannot disappoint his family. He has to do his best. For Yein.

 ♚

   
The moon is already high up in the navy sky when Jongin sits on the sand, on his last night in the Kingdom. He is not supposed to be out at this hour, especially on the eve of his departure, but sleep has been escaping him, and he ended up sneaking out of the Palace. It has been way too long since he came near his beloved sea. He does not want to believe this is the last time his eyes wander on the calm silver waves.

His fingertip distractedly draws undulating swirls in the moonlit sand, mind drifting back to the brief conversation he had with his brother, earlier that day.  
He can still remember the way his body had been uncontrollably shaking as he stood in front of the closed door of Jongsuk’s private study.  
His brother had never, _ever_ , asked to speak to him privately.

“Jongin, you do understand why you have to do this, right ?” Jongsuk said, pinning the younger boy under his serious stare.

Jongin only offered a nod and waited, before remembering how impolite it was not to give a verbal answer.

“Yes. I do not want to disappoint you, or our parents,” he replied, trying to enunciate every word intelligibly, like his tutor had taught him.

“It is not about disappointing us,” his brother sighed, closing his eyes for a few seconds. “It is about keeping the Kingdom safe.”

“I will do my best, Your Royal Highness,” Jongin said, sitting even straighter than he was after bowing his head respectfully.

The sudden look on Jongsuk’s face was not something the younger was used to. He looked discouraged. Sad, almost.  
Had Jongin used the wrong title ? He was sure this was how his instructor had told him a Crown Prince should be addressed. Had he already made a mistake ?  
His mind was already starting to panic, waiting for the scolding, when Jongsuk next words had taken him aback.

“We never got to spend much time together, you and I, did we ?”

“You are the Crown Prince. And I am just me,” Jongin calmly stated after a silence, “There never was a reason for us to do anything together.”

Another sigh. Jongin had never talked much, but seeing his brother’s apparent distaste for what he had just said, he thought perhaps it had been for the best, all those years.

“I am so sorry, Jongin. I wish there were another solution,” Jongsuk said, looking down at his hands neatly folded on his desk, “I- I wish I had learnt to know you.” A shaky breath had forced him to pause for a few seconds, before he slowly looked back up at Jongin, “When King KwangRyul asked me about you, I was not even able to tell him anything. Except for the fact that you love the sea. And even this, I only knew because... Because our sister had told me.”

At the mention of Yein, Jongin’s breath halted. At that moment, he had wanted to ask about her so bad; He wanted to know how she was. He knew Jongsuk had been visiting her, and as bitter and sad as he was to not be himself allowed to see his twin, for a second, he almost let the question exit his lips.

“It is fine. I understand,” he replied instead, looking down.

“You should not have to. I really am sorry.”

“I will do whatever I can to keep the Kingdom safe. You do not have to worry. Or apologize, Your Royal Highness.”

A faint twinkling of light draws Jongin back to reality and his index finger freezes, cutting short the swirl it was drawing. Eyes focusing on the falling star quietly dying in the indigo horizon, he slowly exhales.

The last time he had wished upon a star, his dream turned into a nightmare and had put the whole Kingdom in danger. But in defiance of his mind pleading him to leave and go back to his room, Jongin decides to gather the tiny pieces of hope left in his heart and try, one last time.

So he lifts his hands, intertwining his long fingers, eyelids falling shut.

“I know. I know I am not worthy of your clemency. I do not deserve it. But please, for the sake of my family, of all our people... Please let me be strong enough.”  

 

 ♚ ♚ ♚


	2. Chapter 2

Cold.

Everything is cold.

And this is all Jongin can focus on as the palanquin he sits in is carried by four men towards the courtyard of the Do’s Palace. He only arrived yesterday with his family, after a fourteen-day journey that seemed both endless but somehow way too short. Just like the last time he had traveled to the Kingdom, snow was still covering the highest mountain tops, despite Spring being in full bloom. It was his sister wish, to be married during this season. And after a few letters exchanged between the two Kings, it had been decided to keep the planned date for Seungsoo’s and Yein’s wedding ceremony. Everything had been arranged already, the only difference would be the couple getting tied together.

It makes Jongin sick every time he thinks about it.

He has not been able to meet the Prince Kyungsoo since he set foot in the Palace. Rather, not been _allowed to_ would be a better way to phrase it. He is not sure why, but he has been told the Prince wanted to wait until the ceremony. So, despite being curious about it, he did not ask. He was not supposed to, anyway.  
He can only trust Yein’s words. She used to often say the younger Do's son was a true gentleman, soft spoken and reserved but very well mannered, and always genuinely nice to her.  
Of course, Jongin is not a complete fool. He knows the Prince Kyungsoo might not be as welcoming as he had been towards Yein.

As a second born, Prince Kyungsoo’s inevitable duty will be to lead the Kingdom’s Army. Jongin himself had never been considered for the task; His father had officially promised the future Military command to the son of his trusted Warlord, even before Jongin was born. He had never planned on having a second son, and never thought of changing his mind when he did.  
But although it had always been Kyungsoo’s destiny, from what Yein had told him, Kyungsoo had, however, never been expected to wed anyone. He was supposed to be free to marry the one his heart would choose.  
Until Jongin came into the picture.  
And if the younger was not feeling guilty enough for destroying his sister’s life, now the weight of arrogating Kyungsoo’s future would be on his conscience for the rest of his existence.

 

The Palace looks eerie when it finally comes into view, with the light drizzle quietly hitting the courtyard’s stoned ground and the fog floating in ghostly clouds.  
People are silently standing on each side of the central alley, eyes looking down, and with the void of color in their ceremonial clothes, Jongin almost feels like he is carried in for his own funeral.

A guard near the Palace entrance starts shouting, announcing his arrival following the tempo of the gong echoing in the silent courtyard, and Jongin sees his parents and brother standing up at the end of the path. He is still too far to clearly see their faces, but he is sure they would have looked much happier if Yein was in his place. Everyone would have been. Himself included.

Perhaps it would have been better if this had indeed been his funeral.

Right when he is about to exit the hand-carried chair, Jongin takes a few second to pray, one last time, asking whoever would deem him worthy enough to be heard. He prays for things to go well, for him to not make any mistake, for his new family to not hate him.

But as Kyungsoo gets down from his own palanquin a few minutes later and sends him the coldest glare Jongin has ever received, through the beads of his headwear lightly swinging in front of his face, the younger Prince understands. He realizes no one, up above, will help him.

He is alone. And it terrifies him.

 

The whole ceremony passes in a blur. Jongin’s mind feels disconnected, as if he was watching himself from afar. Unable to process anything, he keeps focusing on insignificant details. The uneven floor stone a few steps away from him, the way Jongsuk is taking deep breaths every now and then, the crack in the old officiant’s raspy voice, Kyungsoo’s thumb playing with a strange ring on his index finger, the moth laying still on the wall.

Out here in the day, Jongin vaguely wonders if the insect feels as out of place as he does himself.

The only moment Jongin somehow pays attention to what is happening is when his parents come to stand in front of him to give the traditional few words of encouragement.

His mother stiffly smiles at him, formally adjusting his dongjeong and brushing invisible dust from his sleeve.

“Be a good son for your new family and show respect to your elders, Jongin.”

She pauses, looking like she wants to add something, opening then closing her thin lips. Jongin wishes he could know what she is thinking. But he spent so little time with her while growing up, it is almost as if he does not know his own mother.

So he simply nods politely, offering her a tight smile as she takes a step back, before he looks up when his father positions himself in front of him.

“Be obedient. Honor our name, my son,” the King gravely instructs, and Jongin cannot do anything except bow his head, shaky breaths coming out through his nose.

The large hand on his upper arm might look encouraging and comforting to foreign eyes, but the underlying threat in his father’s voice was as clear and resonant as thunder in a sea storm.  
Messing up was not an option. The fate of his Kingdom rested on his frail shoulders; A responsibility way too heavy for the soft boy who was used to synchronize his heartbeat with the quiet and delicate hum of the ocean.

 

Later that day, after being officially introduced to the crowd, Jongin still cannot shake the feeling of being unwelcomed out of his chest.  From where he stands, he can see the entire banquet hall, filled with Royals and aristocrats. He spots his brother, then his parents, but none of them looks back.

He does not dare turn to his right, scared to see the iciness in Kyungsoo’s eyes if the elder realizes Jongin is looking at him.

So far, all he got from the Prince is pure hostility. During the ceremony, Kyungsoo’s eyes never met his, the elder looking slightly down, jaw clenched, even as they exchanged the traditional vows.

The only genuine smile he received, although a sad one, was from the Crown Prince. Even if Seungsoo had not said anything, it had still somewhat comforted Jongin, for the Crown Prince had been the only member of his new family to not show open animosity towards him.

“Is it not my favorite manservant ?” a deep voice suddenly sneers, startling Jongin. Chanyeol is smirking at him when the younger looks up, “I suppose your parents finally found something to do with you, haven’t they ? Such a pity for you, Kyungsoo,” he then adds, mournful expression turned towards the shorter Prince, “I am truly saddened you must endure all this. How is she handling the situation ?” he ends with a snicker.

Jongin frowns, wondering who the eldest is talking about, before he remembers the profound aversion he had caught in Queen HyeYeong’s eyes, earlier. Chanyeol was most likely referring to Kyungsoo’s mother.

From the corner of his vision, he sees Kyungsoo briefly looking in his direction, jaw tense, before the elder breathes slowly, in and out, and his lips stretch into a well-rehearsed polite smile.

“Thank you for attending the ceremony, Chanyeol. And, albeit unneeded, I appreciate your compassion,” Kyungsoo coldly says, surprising Jongin with the familiar way he addressed the Crown Prince by solely his name, “But tell me, did your lovely fiancée travel here with you ?”

The wry smile instantly disappears from Chanyeol’s face, gritted teeth and enraged glare replacing the sarcastic expression so quickly Jongin cannot help but stare.  
He remembers hearing the Crown Prince had recently been betrothed to a Princess from Japan, and from what the Court Ladies had said, she was absolutely beautiful and very cultivated. So Jongin is not sure why Chanyeol looks so furious, all of a sudden.

“That’s what I thought,” Kyungsoo scoffs, “You should not engage in some foul word-fight unless you are ready to be countered. Even less when you are in the exact same predicament, Chanyeol.”

Once more, Jongin feels confused. He is fairly sure he heard Chanyeol’s mother had been encouraging her son’s union with the Japanese Princess, so Jongin fails to see how his situation and Kyungsoo’s are similar.

“How dare you ?” Chanyeol angrily spits, “I am a Crown-”

“Now, you will excuse us,” Kyungsoo cuts him firmly, “We are needed elsewhere. I look forward to not seeing you anytime soon, Your Royal Highness,” he continues, voice clearly mocking when he pronounces Chanyeol’s official title, before he slightly turns his head to Jongin, still not meeting his eyes, “Come on.”

Jongin throws one last glance to an outraged-looking Chanyeol, hastily bowing his head before he follows Kyungsoo who started marching towards the center of the room, where people are dancing.

“Where are we going ?” he timidly asks, eyes wandering from face to face.

“We are expected to dance,” Kyungsoo curtly answers, “Hurry,” he orders when Jongin stops walking.

Dance. This is a part of the celebrations Jongin had completely forgotten about. Most likely consciously.  
Yein was the one who had taught him every traditional dance she knew. And she was the last, the only person he had ever danced with.

“Pay attention. Everyone is looking at us,” Kyungsoo warns him in a threatening tone.

A few unsteady breaths later, Jongin raises his right arm as Kyungsoo does the same, before they start walking in circle, the back of their hands connected by an invisible link, skin only a breath away. Step after step, they follow the cheerful melody played by the gayageum quartet.

A slight bow, a slow spin as the daegeum starts playing. Lifting an arm, fingertips brushing Kyungsoo’s, Jongin takes a step forward, then two backward when the pungmul-buk joins the other instruments.

He feels dizzy, memories flooding his mind like a tidal wave and making him stumble.

He can hear delighted chatting around him as the melody becomes more mischievous and people happily sway, steps mirroring theirs.

But through his eyes filling with tears, Kyungsoo’s resentful face morphs into Yein’s smiling one.

The woman’s laughter in the background suddenly sounds like his sister’s joyful giggle right as he misses a step.

And Jongin chokes back a sob.

“Quiet,” Kyungsoo immediately spits, still not looking into his eyes, “What is wrong with you ?”

Jongin shakes his head, scared that he will start crying for good if he tries talking, and brings a hand in front of his mouth to prevent any sound from coming out.  
Kyungsoo looks furious. Jongin can see it even through the blur created by the tears. And the strong hand tightly gripping his elbow proves him right.

Kyungsoo forces him to walk towards the grand doors, nearly dragging him out. He vaguely hears the elder politely answering to a few curious guests, but cannot make out his words, too focused on trying to keep the tears from falling.

It is all in vain, though, when Kyungsoo stops in an empty hallway, sharply releasing Jongin’s arm, and turns to him, eyes finally meeting his own.

“Get a hold of yourself,” Kyungsoo snaps and it is all it takes for the tears to finally start cascading down Jongin’s cheek, “We have an audience. All eyes are on us. What do you think they will say if they see you whimper like this ?”

For long minutes, Jongin tries to calm down, swallowing back every sob threatening to pierce the silence, as Kyungsoo’s eyes bore into the night sky through the window’s heavy glass.

When he eventually manages to get his breathing back to normal, Jongin wipes his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand and turns to look at Kyungsoo.

“We- We should go back,” he says, voice hoarse, before sniffling, and Kyungsoo tiredly sighs, turning around to face him.

“There is no need,” he answered in an impassive tone, “They probably think we were in a hurry to consummate our marriage,” he adds, spitting the last word as if the sheer mention of their union was positively disgusting him.

Is that what everyone expected them to do ? Jongin thinks, choosing not to take offense at the way Kyungsoo clearly despise the mere thought. After all, although he had hoped to be wrong, he knew the Prince would not welcome him with open arms.

“You can go back if you want. I do not care. I am going to bed,” Kyungsoo announces before he starts walking away.

Considering his options, Jongin quickly realizes he does not want to face everyone alone. Not that Kyungsoo had been a support for him since he arrived, but the elder was right. Everybody had most likely seen them hastily exit the room. And he will undoubtedly get questions if he goes back inside on his own. He is not sure he can handle that. Not when he had been crying only a few minutes ago. His face surely is still red and his eyes all bloodshot and swollen.  
It would be better to avoid meeting anyone in this state.

His decision taken, Jongin starts walking in the same direction Kyungsoo went minutes ago, before he remembers he has no idea where he is supposed to go.

Luckily, he spots a maid lighting some torches on another hallway and shyly steps toward her. The poor girl jolts so hard when he quietly clears his throat, that he starts feeling guilty for scaring her.

"Would you, by any chance, know where I am meant to spend the night ?”

“In- In Prince Kyungsoo’s bedroom, Your Highness,” she answers with a deep bow, still looking a bit panicky, “It is yours too, now. I… I’ll show you, if you would follow me, Your Highness.”

Quietly, Jongin adjusts the size of his steps with her short strides to make sure he stays behind her.  
He cannot help but be anxious.  
It is most likely not Kyungsoo’s idea to have them both share a room, and possibly even a bed. But Jongin hopes Kyungsoo was at least told they were supposed to.  
The elder did not mention anything about it, earlier, but he had made absolutely clear he did not care about the way Jongin wanted to end the evening.

Lost in his worried thoughts, Jongin nearly bumps into the young girl when she stops in the middle of an umpteenth endless corridor.  
Before he even has the time to apologize for sending her tumbling forward, she is already frantically bowing.

“I’m very sorry, Your Highness. I should’ve warned you. Please forgive my idiocy.”

“No, it is fine. I should have paid attention,” he quickly answered, trying to be reassuring when he sees her so jittery, “Is this Prince Kyungsoo’s room ?” he then asks, pointing at the door on his right before she can start apologizing again.

“It is, Your Highness,” she says, voice trembling as she bows once more.

The title sounds so foreign to Jongin. Of course, he is a Prince, but people never addressed him enough for him to get used to it. Baekhyun did not count, since the boy was careless and had decided to call Jongin by his name soon after they met.  
He wants to tell the girl to do the same, that he is not that important, but she still looks somewhat on edge, so he decides to drop it for now. And it is probably the right choice, for when he thanks her, the girl’s eyes grow so wide Jongin is afraid they will fall out of their socket.  
Could it be that she heard something about him that had led her to believe he was bad-mannered ? Jongin cannot remember ever doing anything that could be considered as rude. Or at least not enough for the rumor to travel between Kingdoms. He was not relevant enough for people to talk about him, anyway.

He slowly opens the door after giving her a hesitant smile, then, carefully peeking inside, he finally enters the large room.

Like everything else in the Palace, blues, greys and silvers are prevailing. From the warm-looking blanket on the colossal bed, to the heavy curtains flowing down against the ceiling-high windows. The pillows on the wooden ground, the sofa’s cushion, the mirror’s frame. Even the large painting above the dresser, representing a pack of wolves running on a frozen lake, is tinted in similar cool tones.

But as intriguing as the bleak atmosphere is to a boy used to golden beaches and sunny afternoons, Jongin is more puzzled to find the room empty. No matter where his eyes wander, Kyungsoo does not seem to be here.  
Had Jongin misheard when the Prince said he was going to sleep ?  
The maid would not have led him to the wrong room, and given the few garments he could see on the sofa, as well as books and parchments on the imposing desk, the bedroom was frequently used. A lit candle was even burning on the bedside table, dimly illuminating the cobalt sheets.

Frowning, Jongin takes a few more steps inside the bedchamber before he freezes, startled by a door roughly opened on his left. He is still too near the room’s entrance for Kyungsoo to notice him right away, and the elder strides towards the bed, long dark hair dripping on a navy silk bathrobe as Jongin waits, uncertain if he should say something or wait for Kyungsoo to acknowledge his presence.

It does not take long, however, and once more, Jongin is taken aback by the loathing in Kyungsoo’s eyes, flinching at the venom in his voice.

“What are you doing here ?”

“I... We-”

“Get out.”

“But-”

“I said. Get. Out.”

A few seconds and a wobbly bow later, Jongin is closing the door after exiting the room, erratic heartbeat pounding in his chest and eyes stinging from the tears he is trying to push back.  
Of course.  
Of course Kyungsoo would not want Jongin anywhere near him more than what was necessary.

A movement on his right makes him jump once more and he sees the same maid timidly looking at him from a few steps away.

“Is everything fine, Your Highness ? Do you need anything ?”

She probably heard what happened inside the Prince’s chamber. Maybe not on purpose, but the silence in this part of the Palace added to the thin walls undoubtedly did nothing to conceal Kyungsoo voice, despite the Prince talking in a low menacing tone.  
Nonetheless, Jongin is glad she pretends not to have overheard.

“Prince Kyungsoo...does not feel well,” he chooses to answer, “Could you perhaps show me a vacant room ? I do not want to aggravate his condition.”

The maid seems to hesitate before she lowly bows and turns around to guide him in an adjacent corridor.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any other room ready for you to use, Your Highness. But...this is where Her Highness the Princess Yein resides when she visits the Palace,” the girl says, hand gesturing towards a door decorated with a carved floral pattern, voice trembling with obvious nervousness, “Is has been kept clean in the hope of her soon return.”

Jongin takes a silent deep breath. He had forgotten no one except the Do’s family and his own knew about his sister’s accident. Jongin tries in vain to control the cracking in his voice as he whispers yet another thank-you, before he enters the bedroom, rapidly closing back the sliding door behind him.

Ten months have passed since the last time his sister walked on this floor, but the bedchamber still screams of her presence from every corner. He remembers Yein telling him the Queen had given her the liberty of decorating her room as she pleased.

Blueish shades were still predominant, but elements here and there were reminders of her birth Kingdom. A painting of Jongin’s dear cerulean ocean propped on the built-in window sit, seashells embroideries on the hem of the curtains, little starfishes that looked sculpted out of stone, carefully arranged on the nightstand.

It is like she had been here just before he came in, and despite knowing it is impossible, Jongin swears he can still smell the delicate perfume he would deeply breathe in whenever she was standing near him.  
The maid was right. Everything had been kept in perfect shape.  
There is even a white nightgown laid on the bed, probably placed there by someone who thought Yein would travel with them for the Princes’ wedding.

Everyone must have been so perplexed about why Jongin was the one marrying their King’s youngest son.

He slowly walks to the bed, cautiously taking off the outer garment of his ceremonial clothes and placing it on the ottoman covered in navy velvet. When he is done undressing down to clothes he deems appropriate enough for the night, Jongin does not bother closing the oyster grey curtains and slips under the comforter, lying still on his back as the ethereal moonlight dimly shines through the tall windows.

Here, in the silence, salty pearls slowly start rolling down his temples. He can hear each one of them quietly hitting the cold pillow under his head, a muted pitter-pat beautifully harmonizing with the sound of his broken heart crying crimson tears.

He is alone. Like a vibrant red drop of blood in the middle of the dull ocean drowning the Palace. And maybe the waves will take him under the surface too. Maybe he will be surrounded by dark waters and sink down until he cannot feel anything, dissolving until nothing of his fiery color remains.

Maybe then, he will be free.   

 ♚

   
The blazing sun is burning his cheeks as Jongin contemplates the calm ocean, waves quietly humming as they mischievously lick his bare toes.

His content smile however drops when he hears a voice frantically calling for him.

“Your Highness ! Your Highness, wake up !”

Looking left and right, Jongin frowns when he finds no one on the never-ending beach. But the voice keeps calling.

“Wake up, Your Highness ! Please !”

The warmth suddenly evaporates and his blood turns to ice when he comes back to reality.

There is a hand on his upper arm, and through his barely open eyes, he can see a silhouette standing near him.

“You need to wake up and get dressed, Your Highness !” the man urges him, applying a bit more pressure on his arm.

“Wh- What time is it ?” Jongin breathes out, for a second confused as to where he is, and still mourning the loss of his soothing dream.

Of course it was not real.

“Almost seven in the morning, Your Highness. Breakfast has been served thirty minutes ago. I’ve been searching for you everywhere for the past hour, but here you were !”

“Who- Who are you ?”

“My name is Kim Jongdae, Your Highness. I’ve been assigned as your manservant.”

“My what ?” Jongin asks, voice hoarse and thoughts still too clouded to figure out why the name sounds familiar.

“This isn’t important, Your Highness,” the boy answers in an urgent tone, “You need to get changed quickly. Her Majesty the Queen is awfully displeased.”

At the mention of Queen HyeYeong, any trace of sleep is wiped out of Jongin’s mind and he sits abruptly. Jongdae’s eyebrows are scrunched up in obvious worry, and despite not knowing him, Jongin knows the situation is serious.

As he gets up and lets Jongdae help him out of his clothes, the manservant starts talking again, further increasing Jongin’s distressed thoughts.

“I’m very sorry, Your Highness. I should’ve found you earlier,” he says, struggling to get Jongin’s hand through the tight sleeve of his undergarment, “I went to yours and Prince Kyungsoo’s room, thinking I would find you here. But the Prince had already left, and you were nowhere to be seen.” He adjusts Jongin’s collar then grabs a belt, “I have looked for you in more rooms that I can count before Joohyun-ssi told me you were in Princess Yein’s chamber.”

“I... Prince Kyungsoo- He was not feeling well, last night.”

“That’s what Joohyun-ssi explained, yes.”

“I apologize for the trouble I brought you, Jongdae-ssi,” Jongin says, biting his lips.

Jongdae’s hands stop flattening the wrinkles on Jongin’s grey hanbok and looks up at him, clearly surprised.

“The trouble you brought _me_ , Your Highness ?”

“I hope you will not be reprimanded,” Jongin replies after nodding, “It was my fault. I will make sure to explain to anyone who would need to be informed.”

The curious expression on Jongdae’s face turns into a completely stunned one.

“With all my due respect, you’re a strange person, Your Highness,” he comments, raising an eyebrow. But before Jongin has the time to ask him what he means, the boy is urging him towards the door, “However, you really need to hurry. I won’t be the one in trouble if you arrive even further late than you already are.”

“Are my parents and brother having breakfast too ?” Jongin inquires as they turn on yet another hallway.

Jongdae’s steps falter for half a second before he resumes leading the Prince.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. They left already. They wanted to see you but, since I couldn’t find you...”

“Oh... It is fine, they have a long journey ahead of them.” Jongin is not sure he manages to hide the disappointment in his voice, but he still tries to, if only to stop seeing the remorse on Jongdae’s face, “And please, could you call me by my name ? Using my title is unnecessary.”

Jongdae stops his steps in front of an umpteenth door and turns to look at him, right eyebrow raised again.

“Strange indeed...” he enigmatically smiles, “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Your Highness. Now, this is the dining room. Go ahead,” he ends in an encouraging tone, “I’ll see you when you’re done and give you a tour of the Palace.”

Jongin breathes in, trying to brace himself before grabbing the handle. He has no idea what awaits behind these doors, since he hadn’t had the chance to really speak with his new family the day before. But at least, they cannot react worse than Prince Kyungsoo is, now could they ?  
He breathes out. And pushes the heavy wood.

The first pair of eyes he looks into unfortunately proves him wrong.   

  
 ♚

   
“And here, we have the Palace’s library. It contains an extensive amount of books and archives, but you need to be careful or you could get lost, with how vast the room is. It even goes underground ! I’ll show you another time... Your Highness ?”

Lost in his thoughts, Jongin startles at the call.

“I apologize. I did not want to give you the impression I was not listening,” Jongin answers with a slight bow of the head, “I would really love to see the library one day.”

Jongdae blinks at him, looking puzzled, before he looks around as if to make sure they are alone.

“You need to stop apologizing to those of lower rank, Your Highness,” he sighs, eyebrows furrowed, “And that includes bowing to us. Joohyun-ssi mentioned you did the same to her last night.”

“I am not sure I understand what you mean.”

“You’re a Prince, your Highness. Not only by marriage, but by blood.”

“So, should I be neglecting my manners and be rude ?” Jongin counters, perplexed, “I was not aware having Royal blood meant I had to disrespect those who did not.”

Once more, the boy seems taken aback. But then a small smile curves his lips up.

“You’re a lot like your sister, Your Highness,” he says, and his tone holds an affection Jongin is not surprised to hear. Everyone loves Yein, “At least, please refrain doing so in front of Their Majesties. Especially in presence of the Queen,” Jongdae adds. Jongin can feel his face fall at the mention of the consort, and it must show, because Jongdae’s expression turns compassionate, “How did breakfast go, Your Highness ?”

Jongin sighs, shoulders sagging.

“Not well. Queen HyeYeong was not happy with me.”

“Yes, she can be quite...” Jongdae pauses, looking like he is trying to find a term that would not cost him his place at the Palace, “Adamant,” he ends, lips pursed proving it was not the word he originally had in mind, “Her Majesty has always been like this, for as long as I can remember. But she turned even more hard-hearted this past year, though I’m unsure as to why.”

It suddenly gets hard to breathe for Jongin.  
He knows why. It is his fault.  
Jongin knows the Queen HyeYeong loved, loves, Yein as much as if she was her own daughter. And Jongin had taken her away. Worse, he had ended up taking her place and imposing himself within the Queen’s household.  
It is not a surprise she would hate him.  
Jongin had been stupid to raise his hopes up. Of course he was unwanted here.  
He had deprived the King and Queen of a perfect daughter-in-law, taken away the Crown Prince’s beloved one and stolen the younger Prince’s freedom. And now Kyungsoo would have to live a whole existence standing next to a man he abhors.

“The Princes were not here,” Jongin says when he sees Jongdae expectantly looking at him, probably waiting for an answer, maybe some sort of explanation. But the Prince cannot find the courage in himself to tell him the truth. Not when Jongdae has been nothing but nice with him. He does not want to risk the boy hating him too.

“Ah yes, they left right after bidding farewell to your family,” Jongdae answers and the Prince sighs. His parents must have been furious to hear he was nowhere to be found, most likely still sleeping, when everyone else had already started their day. This was quite a bad start for him. “Follow me, Your Highness. Let’s get you in your room so you can rest for a bit.”

Jongin does not need rest. He needs to find out how to fix the damages he already caused. But he knows it will probably not help to keep standing in a corridor. So he silently nods and trails behind a carefreely walking Jongdae.

It is only a few minutes later that he recognizes the corridor they stand in, and starts panicking.

“Jongdae-ssi... This is- This is Prince Kyungsoo’s room,” he stutters, eyeing the door.

“It’s your bedchamber too, now, Your Highness.”

“I do not think I should-” he tries, “Prince Kyungsoo was not-” he pauses again, himself unsure of what he wants to say.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness ?”

“Would it be possible for me to...sleep somewhere else ?” he finally sighs.

“Do you wish to nap in the backyard, Your Highness ?” Jongdae joyfully chirps, “The weather is surprisingly good today !”

“No, that is not... I meant- Would it be possible for me to have my own room ?”

He watches Jongdae stare at him. The boy does not really look surprised. Kyungsoo’s hatred for him was seemingly not a secret.

“Are you sure, Your Highness ?” Jongdae inquires, clearly hesitant, and Jongin nods, avoiding his eyes, “Very well. Follow me then. But you’ll have to make sure Their Majesties don’t find out,” he says as he walks in the direction they came from, “You won’t be able to stay in your sister’s room, though. It would be disastrous if the Queen was to discover everything. Heavens forbid she does.”

  
♚

 

The very first time he witnesses Kyungsoo’s genuine smile, Jongin is leaning on the wooden bridge rail overhanging the Palace’s vast pond.

Deep and dark, it looks more like a lake confined in the vast back courtyard, and Jongin loves standing on the bridge and watch the frogs rippling the water as they hop between the floating water lilies. This is the closest thing he could find that reminds him of his beloved sea. It is nowhere as soothing as staring at the waves come and go, but it somewhat helps him going through the days.

It has been two months already since he came to live here. And as much as he tries to adjust, it still does not get any easier. The only thing he successfully managed to achieve is going from his bedchamber to the dining room without getting lost in the giant maze the Palace is. But even this took him weeks. And for days, he had to face the disapproving look the Queen was throwing him when he kept arriving late for breakfast. Or when he does anything, really. It is quite obvious for everyone how strongly she detests him. Not a day has passed without her finding something to criticize, be it the way he eats too quickly, walks too slowly, dresses too sloppily, or even breathes too loudly. For the past week, her new obsession had been to pinpoint how hunched his back is when he sits and now, as he breathes out, leaning a bit more on the rail, Jongin’s spine screams at him for trying so hard to keep it straight at all time.  
He is not used to be meticulously observed. Having reprobating eyes constantly on him is tiring.  
Even now, despite knowing Queen HyeYeong is in the Throne room, he still cannot shake the feeling she is watching, scrutinizing his every move. He straightens up his back a bit more, wincing at the faint noise his lower back bones make.

At the exact same moment, his eyes catch a familiar figure walking past the Palace’s back gate, one that is normally only used by the people working here. Face covered by the hood of his dark cloak despite the rather warm weather, Kyungsoo leisurely follows the gravel path leading to the backyard and Jongin almost takes a step towards him, curious to know where he is coming back from.

He does not, however. He keeps still and silent, and let his eyes trail after the Prince.  
He knows his question would be unwelcome. As they have always been, for as long as he can remember.  
In the two months he has been there, Kyungsoo has not made it a secret that he does not want anything to do with Jongin.

For the first few weeks, and even when Jongin was doing absolutely nothing, all he received from the elder was venomous glares. If the Prince had to talk to Jongin, he would automatically answer in a tone filled with either hostility or just plain disgust. Like that time when, out of despair, and after spending a whole hour looking everywhere he could think of without getting himself lost, Jongin had seen Kyungsoo walking in an adjacent corridor and had timidly asked him if he knew where Jongdae was. The cold and angry stare had been clear enough without the Prince next words to show his antipathy.

“Do I look like I keep track of where he goes ?” Kyungsoo had said, or rather spat, in a vicious voice, and Jongin had quickly shaken his head and bowed with an apology, keeping his eyes down as Kyungsoo walked away.

After that, maybe Kyungsoo had deemed his mother was already giving Jongin the treatment he deserved, and had decided to just completely ignore the younger.  Not that Jongin was surprised, though. Indifference, he could manage; He was used to it, and he preferred that to malice.  
But somewhere along the way, Kyungsoo’s hostility had become an emotional landmark. Something that was consistent and held no surprise.  
Jongin never liked surprises. Constancy reassured him, and the Prince unwavering behavior had somehow become comforting. A way for him to believe he was _noticed_. A proof someone was still _seeing_ him, that he had not fallen into oblivion, like a forgotten shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean.  
And with Kyungsoo sudden change of demeanor, Jongin had lost what kept him grounded.  
He was not surprised. But it still hurt. Now he does not have to wait for acknowledgment. The Prince’s expression would stay impassive whenever Jongin is in his vicinity.  
But truly, even when prestigious guests had been visiting the Royal family in those two months, he had never seen more than a polite and respectful smile on Kyungsoo’s face. And Jongin became used to it.

Which is why he is so stunned, right at that moment, to see the lively expression painted on Kyungsoo’s face. From afar, Jongin can still clearly see his lips stretched wider than he had ever thought possible, cheekbones raised and eyes calmly looking ahead. Even the way he walks is different, almost gliding on the stoned ground, like a wave softly retreating to the sea after reaching the shore.

It makes Jongin even more curious. But he still does not dare to ask.

He does not want to be the one swiping away Kyungsoo’s fascinating smile.   

  
 ♚

   
Another month has passed, and September is already forcing the Palace’s workers to light the chambers’ fireplaces at night.

Jongin hates the cold; He is not used to wear so many layers of undergarment beneath his newly tailored hanboks. Their sapphire color does not suit him either. Against his tan skin, it makes him look sick, and even darker. He hates that too. He had tried to ask for a warmer tone, a cerulean or a Prussian blue, for at least one of the outer garments, even just a belt.  
In vain.  
The sapphire blue was the color of the Do’s family. He was a Do, now. And there would be no disruption of the tradition. The tailor had said he should be proud to wear such precious clothes, for the embroidery were made of real silver thread. He supposes he should. But he still cannot bear to look at himself in the mirror, knowing how dull and muddy the shade of blue makes his completion look.  
Every time he does, usually when Jongdae is not available to make sure his long dark hair is properly tied up in his topknot, as it is the way married men wear their hair, he cannot help but think how stunning Yein would have looked, dressed in those cold tones.  
They would have complimented her pale skin so well, enhancing the cherry color of her lips and making the light pink of her cheeks stand out even more.  
The burgundy color of their family’s clothing had always made her look noble. But Jongin knows this sapphire would have given her the ethereal grace of the Queen she was supposed to be.

He misses her so much.

 

As he exits his room, Jongin thinks of the letter he received the day before. Brought to him by an eternally cheerful Jongdae, the seal of his family embossed in scarlet wax had been taunting him the whole night. The envelope remains closed on top of the bedside table, his own name elegantly traced in a neat handwriting. He is not sure who wrote it since he never got to see his parents or brother calligraphy, but he knows he will probably not like the content.  
If it had been good news about his sister, he would not have been the one receiving a missive.

He finally enters the dining room, ready to face cold stares and indifference, depending on which end of the table it would come from. The King is here too, this morning, the embellishments on his ikseongwan glistening in the faint sunrise rays filtered by the windows.

Jongin never really knows how to act in the man’s presence.  
With the Queen, he only has to keep his eyes low, silent and still. With Kyungsoo, Jongin mostly tries not to get in his way, opting for making himself as invisible as he can. The Crown Prince is the only one he can exchange small smiles with, every now and then, on the rare occasion they cross paths in the Palace. But the King remains a mystery for Jongin, so similar yet so different from his own father. Sometimes it seems like he does not even see the young Prince, despite Jongin sitting in his field of vision. Other times, he watches him with an expression Jongin has no idea how to interpret. Eyebrows slightly furrowed and lips ticking, it could be curiosity, or dislike. Or perhaps, just like his own parents, the King is wondering what to do with him.  
Unfortunately, Jongin has no answer to that either.

But thankfully, today seems to be one where he gets ignored by the King. And the Princes seem to be absent for breakfast. Which leaves Jongin only having to worry about the Queen.  
A good day, he concludes.

A quiet greeting and a ninety-degree bow later, he kneels in front of the low table, two sitting-cushions away from Kyungsoo’s habitual spot. Better be safe in case the Prince shows up.  
The Queen clicks her tongue in disapproval. Maybe at his clothes. Or his hair. Or his stance. Most likely at his mere presence in the room, though.

Breakfast is soon being served by the habitual maids and Jongin starts eating silently, making sure to keep his back straight and his munching noises as quiet as he can.  
If he carries on like that, he should get through the meal without any disturbance.

Sadly, luck is not more on his side today than any other day.

As one of the maid is reaching for his empty plate, Jongin adjusts himself on his cushion to ease the numbness of his legs. And it is in slow motion the Prince sees the girl try to avoid touching his shoulder with her elbow, inevitably tilting the tray she holds and sending the porcelain dishes in a lethal descent towards the ground.

Both Jongin and the girl freeze as the clatter echoes in the wide room. He does not dare looking up. He cannot even move when the maid apologizes profusely, kneeling to pick up the shards scattered around him on the floor. Once she is done, she rushes out and Jongin almost grabs her arm to beg her not to let him face the Queen alone.

However, when he finally lifts his eyes, the Queen’s face is turned towards her husband, and Jongin almost starts thanking the Stars. Perhaps she had decided to ignore him as well.

But of course, he is wrong once more.

Her voice is filled with resentment when she addresses the King.

“Your Majesty, I really would like you to reconsider my request. We were promised a perfectly trained future Queen, and this is what we were delivered,” she says, pointing at him, as if he was just a defective piece of furniture, “The boy is absolutely useless. We lost way too much in the arrangement.”

For a second, Jongin wants to tell her they did not have to go on with the deal when his family changed the bargain, but he knows better than to open his mouth and speak his mind. The way she talked about Yein sits heavy in his heart. He knows the Queen truly loved his sister and it is obvious she is using such detached terms to hurt him. So he says nothing, folds his hands on his lap, and keeps staring at the dark wooden floor.

“As much as it pains me to see you so troubled, Dear, you know very well I cannot accede to your demand,” the King amiably answers, “I was assured Prince Jongin was well educated.”

“Your Majesty, please.”

“My Queen, I am afraid you will have to outgrow your rancor. The Princes have wed already.”

“We could announce his death,” the Queen calmly says, as if she was merely talking about the weather, and Jongin’s face shoots up, eyes widening, “We could hide him, keep him locked somewhere. Nobody would know, and our son would be free.”

Jongin wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to run. Tears well up in his eyes as he watches the Queen wait for an answer.  
Is this really how much she has always hated him ? So profoundly that she thought he deserved to be kept secluded alone for the rest of his life and declared dead over just having him actually killed ?

He wants to think that he does not deserve such a punishment. But Yein’s face comes to his mind in a flash. And he remembers that it is, in fact, exactly what he did to his sister.  
His stupid wishes had consequently locked her up inside her body, alone with her own mind.  
Maybe he does deserve it. Death would be too sweet of a sentence. A warm tear rolls on his cheek when the King’s voice echoes in a severe tone as he addresses his spouse.

“I am very sorry, Dear. You heard the Royal Astronomer. JiSub-ssi has been extremely clear. Their union was acclaimed by the Stars of Destiny. They have been blessed by the Great Wolf. You would not go against Them, now would you ?

The Queen takes a deep and trembling breath before shaking her head, eyes casted down.

“No, Your Majesty. I apologize for suggesting such a thing,” she says, and her husband lightly pats the back of her hand in a comforting gesture.

“It might take some time, but he will adjust soon enough. After all, and considering his age, this is all very new to Prince Jongin. But he will work hard, I am sure. Will you not ?”

Jongin jolts, surprised to be addressed by the King, before he bends forward in a low bow, nearly hitting his forehead on the table.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will. And I am truly sorry for-”

He is still talking as he sits back straight when the door loudly opens and the Princes come in, cutting his apology.

Seungsoo is mid laugh, face scrunched in a chirpy expression, but Jongin does not see him.  
His eyes are locked on Kyungsoo. The boy’s hair is a mess, long strands falling out of his topknot, dust smudged on his right cheekbone. His clothes are not in better shape, covered with grime and belt tilted as he presses his left hand against his stomach. However, what has Jongin’s eyebrows furrowing is the bandage wrapped around his other wrist, down to his knuckles. He seems to be in some kind of pain as he walks, judging by his clenched jaw and the faint grunt slipping out of his pursed lips when Seungsoo claps his shoulder, still laughing.

Jongin does not count, but less than two heartbeats later, the Queen is standing and marching toward her sons.

“Oh, by the Stars, Kyungsoo ! What in Heavens happened to you ?” she asks, obvious concern filling her voice. She looks like she wants to inspect his wrist, but the young man recoils the moment her hands reach for it.

“I am alright, Mother. The horses are quite agitated because of the coming storm. I should not have been standing so close.”

The hard look she throws to Seungsoo effectively cuts the Crown Prince’s comment, but fails to prevent yet another snort. Then she turns soft eyes back towards her younger son.

“Does it hurt ? Did you get that wrist checked by the Court Physician ? What about your stomach ?”

“Just a bit. It might bruise but he said I would be alright. You do not have to worry.”

“Of course I worry. I am your mother.” As she speaks, her hand comes up, thumb gently brushing the dust from Kyungsoo’s cheek, “It is my fate to be incessantly worried for you two.”

Jongin adverts his eyes from the scene. The display of affection and the fondness in her voice contrast so much with what happened mere minutes ago. And the change had been so swift. Quicker than the time it would take for a candle’s flame to die after being blown out.

“I am fine, I promise.”

The answer is given in an emotionless tone and Jongin does not need to look back up to know Kyungsoo has probably noticed him in the room.

“Go and wash up, son,” the King directs, “You can have breakfast when you will be appropriately dressed.

“He needs rest,” the spouse objects, “I will have a maid serve it to you in your room. Now go,” she softly says to Kyungsoo, carefully ushering him out.

“You can go too, Jongin,” the King asserts.

Silently, Jongin bows once, stands up and bows again, before he exits the room, making sure not to cross eyes with the Queen and barely acknowledging Seungsoo small smile.  
Surely the King had intended for him to join Kyungsoo in their shared room, maybe to take care of him or help him with his injured hand.  
Needless to say, Jongin knows he is not welcomed in said room.

So he walks away, before making up his mind. Maybe he should find Jongdae and finally get that library tour the boy has been promising him for three months already.  

 ♚

   
He does not find Jongdae.

Instead, it is hours later, as he stands on the wooden bridge once again, that someone finds him.

After looking for his manservant for almost an hour, he had ended up returning to his room, and the envelope on his nightstand had taunted him enough for him to finally reach out for it. Breaking the seal, he had carefully taken out the letter, and after a quick peek at the signature revealing it had been written by Jongsuk, he had finally read it.

He had not been surprised to learn Yein was still in the same state. But already knowing did not hinder the pain. And he had flown through the rest of the missive with tears freely cascading on his face.

Eyes still red, he leans away for the rail and bows in front of Seungsoo after being startled by the Crown Prince greeting him.

The silence is awkward and Jongin does not know what to say to the man he stole love and happiness from.

“I heard about what happened this morning,” Seungsoo finally says tentatively, “Please do not hold it against my mother. She surely did not mean it that way.”

“I am not. I understand why she said this, Your Royal Highness,” Jongin answers with yet another bow of his head.

If Seungsoo notices the puffiness of his eyelids, he does not mention it.

“You can abandon the title. Just call me Hyung-nim, like Kyungsoo does,” he says instead, and Jongin’s swollen eyes widen, “At least when it is only the two of us,” Seungsoo quickly adds when he sees the younger open his mouth, probably to protest.

“I am not sure this is-”

“Am I going to have to order you to do so ?” the Crown Prince asks, squinting his eyes. Jongin freezes, breaths suddenly heavy, but then, the elder hurriedly shakes his head, “I was not serious ! You are fine, don’t panic,” Seungsoo says, eyebrows furrowed when he sees Jongin lips tremble, “The order part, I mean. I would still like you to call me Hyung-nim. We are family now, are we not ?”

“I suppose,” Jongin replies, trying to calm his heartbeat, “But I do not think it would be appropriate, your Royal Highness.”

It is not. If the Queen ever found out, she would have his head.

A joyless chuckle slips past Seungsoo’s lips and Jongin frowns. Did the Crown Prince think the same ?

“You are a whole lot like her,” Seungsoo says, a sad smile grazing his lips, and somehow, Jongin does not need him to precise who he is referring to.

“I am ?” he asks shyly.

“Yes. She, too, never let me have the last word,” Seungsoo adds with another chuckle. A fond one.

Silence stretches for a few minutes, before Seungsoo talks again.

“You and I never spent much time together when I visited your Palace to see her, but I feel like I know you.”

“How come ?”

“Whenever she was here,” the Crown Prince starts with a smile full of tenderness, “Not a day passed without Yein speaking about you. You were all she was always talking about. No matter what we were doing, she would always mention you. ‘ _I wish Jongin could see this_ ’, ‘ _I am sure Jongin would love this_ ’, ‘ _I hope Jongin will join us next time we come here_ ’ _._ She loved you so much.”

“Loves.”

“Yes, you are right. She _loves_ you,” the elder corrects himself, “And surely, she would not want to see you so sad.”

The words are aimed to comfort him, he knows. But the heavy feeling in his belt pocket, where the letter lays, black ink smeared by dried up tears, pulls at his heart unforgivingly.

“I- I am sorry,” he says, choking on air as new tears well up in his eyes.

“Jongin ? Why are you crying ? What are you sorry for ?” Seungsoo inquires, sounding quite alarmed by the younger’s sudden reaction.

“It is my fault. Everything is my fault. I am so sorry.”

“What are you talking about ?”

And as if the hand gently landing on his shoulder had open a gate, Jongin starts talking.

Between whimpers and gasps, he tells the Crown Prince everything. He describes how he grew up with no purpose in life, how Yein had always been the only one here for him. He explains how he would wait for her, every time she left the Palace, how happy he was whenever he was with her, how much he loves her.  
And ultimately, he ends with that fateful day, that fateful wish. That fateful accident and the consequences that would haunt him for his entire life, and all the ones after.  
Seungsoo stays silent the whole time, standing still in front of him. He keeps quiet, even once Jongin is done and just pathetically sobs until he runs out of tears.

He knows what is going to happen now. He knows he just lost the only person from his new family who was nice to him.

“Jongin, why-” the Crown Prince pauses, then, “Why would you think you are to blame ? This is in no way your doing.”

That, he did not expect. Had Seungsoo not heard a word he said ?

“But I made a wish and she... And I was... I did not-”

“No. No ! By the Stars, is this what you have been thinking this whole time ? That it is your fault ?”

“I took her away from you,” Jongin weakly sobs, voice cracking.

He is so confused by the elder’s reaction that he does not even react when Seungsoo takes a step forward and gently pulls him into a comforting hug.

“It was not you,” he sighs and Jongin can feel him shaking his head.

“Why do you not hate me too ? I do not understand.”

His voice is muffled, lips too close to Seungsoo’s shoulder. He has no idea what to do when someone hugs him. Yein was the only one to do so.

“Listen to me,” Seungsoo says seriously, securing his hold, “I adored- A _dore_ her. With my whole heart. And she loves you. More than everything on this Earth. How could I not care about you ?” When Jongin does not answer, the Crown Prince continues, “Why do _you_ not hate me, then ? Maybe it is my fault. I should not have let her leave, when I knew a powerful storm was forecasted. But she knew you were waiting for her, and I did not want to keep her away any longer. So I did nothing. I let her leave.”

“Then it _is_ my fault,” Jongin whimpers, “She was coming back because of me,” he sobs once more as he tries to free himself.

In vain. Seungsoo’s embrace tightens one more as the man sighs.

“This is not what I meant. Listen, Jongin-”

“I took her away from you,” Jongin wails, cutting him, not even caring he keeps breaking protocol, “From your family, from the perfect life she was supposed to have. I ruined everything. You should hate me.”

“You have to stop blaming yourself. How could I condemn you for something you are not responsible of ? It is not your fault,” Seungsoo repeats and Jongin can hear the trembling in his voice, “The Stars would have never allowed something as tragic to happen because of _you_. You love her so much.”

“Then why ? Why did this happen ?” the younger finally asks, not finding any strength left in him to keep fighting.

Jongin feels Seungsoo sigh once again, his hand still lightly tapping his upper back in a soothing rhythm.

“I have no answer to this. But I wish I did, Jongin. I wish I did.”

 ♚

   
The tree leaves start turning carmine as October’s brisk wind envelops the Kingdom. Jongin is still trying to get used to it. Growing up, he never had to face such a bitter weather. Even in the deep winter, there was always sunlight grazing his skin and warming the air coming from the sea.  
Here, Jongin is always shivering. He feels like the chilly breeze crawls deep down his bones, freezing him from inside. And no matter how heavy are the clothes he wears, the cold and pale sun never reaches him, distant star overtaken by the thick blanket of clouds looming over the Palace.

It worries him. Jongdae told him the cold was bound to stay, worsen even. He told him about ice covering the pond, Palace buried under a sparkling white cloak and time slowing down.  
And as much as Jongin wants to see a snowfall, he still dreams every night of the salty breeze he misses so bad.

His trembling fingers securely hold the white porcelain cup filled with hot camellia tea, as he makes his way towards the library. Jongin had taken the habit of spending his afternoon there after Jongdae had finally found time to offer him a tour of the vast room. It is one of the warmest places in the Palace, which only means it is slightly less cold, and he likes sitting down on the wooden floor, an old book on his lap and a hot cup of tea in his hands.

In a few days, they will all leave the Palace and make their way to Paektu Mountain, and Jongin knows nothing will shield him from the cold, then.  
He already knew about the Great Wolf March, had learnt everything back home with his professors. The three-day long peregrination during which commoners, Palace workers and Royal family would travel to and up the volcano until they reach its top. There, throughout a long ceremony, offerings would be made to the Great Wolf, food and treasures thrown in the Heaven Lake, birthplace of the Magnificent Beast. Chants and prayers would be conducted, asking the divinity to bless the Kingdom with a mild winter.

Back when he had been learning about this tradition, Jongin had wondered what it would be like to take part of the journey. But the moment Jongdae told him, an hour earlier, that the March was imminent, Jongin had wanted nothing more than to curl up deep in the library, where the icy gusts of wind could not reach him.

The dusty room had become his safe place, somehow, when the weather had stopped him from spending time near the pond. He was, more often than not, alone in here. So far, the only person he had seen strolling the place was the Royal Astronomer, who had merely bowed and greeted him before disappearing between the high shelves.

The day before, Jongin had found a book about his own Kingdom and, for hours, his fingers had brushed the old parchments, tracing the lines of every drawing depicting his beloved sea.  
This is what he plans on doing today again. Maybe they have more.

His plan is however hindered the second he arrives at the back of the library, where he remembers the book to be.  
Nearly spilling his tea, Jongin abruptly halts his steps when he sees Kyungsoo seated at a table, bent low over a thick pile of parchments. He does not dare breathing, afraid the Prince will notice his presence. Seconds seems to stretch as he tries to figure how he could leave without a noise. It is already a miracle Kyungsoo did not hear him approaching.

Jongin takes a careful step back, stilling when the wooden floor squeaks under his foot and he silently waits Kyungsoo to turn his head and glare at him.  
In vain.

Kyungsoo remains immobile and Jongin frowns.

Biting his chapped lip, he starts making his way towards the Prince. It is foolish, he knows, but he wants to make sure Kyungsoo is fine. Even if he ignores Jongin, the elder still should have reacted to the presence of someone behind him. He slowly rounds the table before he freezes again, eyes widening at the scene in front of him.

Ghostly sun rays are sneaking through the tall stained-glass windows, revealing the slow flight of dust particles in the air as the light brush Kyungsoo’s sleeping face. Jongin blinks, taken aback. He has never stood so close to the Prince without receiving at least a cold look.

But here, cheek pressed against the back of his hand, Kyungsoo looks peaceful.

Jongin’s eyes stay on him, observing how his long lashes caress his cheekbones, watching how his lips look even plumper, somewhat squished against his knuckles. He catches tiny moles here and there, little dark stars imbedded in the creamy skin of his neck. Jongin mentally traces a constellation with all of them.  
The pallid light is casting soft shadows on Kyungsoo fair complexion and Jongin has to fight the odd urge to reach out and brush away the long strand of hair laying on the elder’s round nose.

The Prince, with his constant haughty and proud gait, his iron stare and unyielding words, looks gentle and kind in that moment. Jongin can almost believe his sister’s words, invariably nice whenever she used to talk about Kyungsoo.

He keeps staring, quietly letting his eyes wander on the Prince’s traits and biting back a chuckle when he notices ink stains on Kyungsoo’s fingers. The calligraphy brush resting in his relaxed hand is dripping tiny black blotches, ruining the handwriting on the parchment.

Cautiously, Jongin places his tea cup on the table and prudently reaches for the brush. He almost jolts when his finger grazes Kyungsoo freezing one, right above that strange ring he always wears. Teeth assaulting his lips again, he helplessly looks around.  
Jongin does not know for how long the Prince has been sleeping, immobile in the empty room, but if his hands are cold, his whole body must be too.

He knows he should think about it longer. It would probably be a better idea to ask a maid to bring a small blanket. But Jongin does not want to take the risk making too much noise if he has to leave and come back again. So without pondering further, he unlaces the cord holding his cloak around his neck, and delicately places the garment on Kyungsoo’s back, adjusting the collar so it falls right around the Prince’s neck and protects him from the chilly air.  
He knows Kyungsoo owns a similar one, so surely, he will not recognize this one being Jongin’s.

When he finally stands back, shyly smiling when Kyungsoo sighs and adorably snuggles under the cloak, Jongin grabs the cup of tea and places it closer to the man, making sure the porcelain lid is still in place so it will keep the warmth trapped for as long as possible; Hopefully until the Prince wakes up. One last time, he glances at Kyungsoo’s face, trying to carve his serene expression in his memory, before finally leaving the library.

And as he makes his way to his room, the cold is somehow easier to bear, a strange little flame sparkling to life deep inside his chest.

  
 ♚

   
The March is tiring. Jongin’s back hurts from standing straight for so long on his horse. He rides alongside Kyungsoo at a slow pace, following the Crown Prince. The King and Queen are ahead, surrounded by guards on foot, and Jongin feels sorry for them, as well as for all the commoners who have to walk the whole journey.

Kyungsoo is silent, next to him. He has been since they left, so Jongin supposes the Prince has not found out who wrapped the cloak around his sleeping frame and let a cup of hot tea on his table, days ago. He tries to convince himself this is a good thing, but deep down, Jongin cannot help but be a little sad. Of course, he does not voice his disappointment out. He knows it is for the best. Surely, Kyungsoo would not like knowing it was him.

They go through days of endless riding, while nights are spent inside linen tents. Kyungsoo does not sleep in the small pavilion set up for the both of them. Instead, he spends the nights outside, with the guards who will soon be under his command. Jongin thinks he even heard him laugh a few times with some of his men.

The last day of the journey is done on foot, for the path they take on the mountain side would be too steep for horses. They walk their way up in a long and silent procession, and Kyungsoo keeps a safe distance between Jongin and him, even though they have to walk side by side.

The only words exchanged between the two leave Jongin confused. When his boot catches on an uneven stone, he trips and almost topple to his knees. But Kyungsoo hand reflexively grabs his forearm and quickly tugs him up.

“Careful,” he breathes, frowning but not looking at Jongin, and the younger is about to thank him when Kyungsoo’s face returns to his usual blank expression. His voice is cold when he adds, “Do not make a fool out of yourself again.”

Jongin merely nods, eyes down to inspect where he places his feet.

For a second, the Prince almost sounded worried. But as if he did not want Jongin to fantasize and imagine Kyungsoo could ever be concerned for his well-being, he had promptly made sure to prove him wrong.

And Jongin cannot help but be disappointed, despite knowing he should not. He does not even know why he is, really. It is not like Kyungsoo had ever been nice to him, or like Jongin expects him to be, anyway.

Night has already fallen when the linen tents and other more modest camps are set on a somewhat plane area, at a good distance of the mountain top, and everyone goes to sleep early, anticipating the following day.  
Kyungsoo stays out again, as Jongin falls into slumber alone, with an uncomfortably aching heart for sole company.

At dawn, Jongdae’s voice gently wakes him up, before the manservant helps him put on his white ceremony clothing. Once ready, he rushes outside and goes to stand next to Kyungsoo to wait in the eerie silence. Surely, not long after, the procession makes his way up until they are all gathered in front of the volcano’s mouth.

In the caldera below them lays an outstanding lake, dark blue water delicately rippled by the breeze. Jongin can only gasp at the view, eyes wandering around, looking at the nearby mountain peaks surrounded by clouds. If he extends his arms, Jongin is sure he could touch the ones floating above the lake’s waters.  
He had read about it, had even seen paintings of the scenery, but never had he imagined the view would be so breathtaking.

The ceremony starts and Jongin gets entranced by the mystical chants and prayers, voices echoing and traveling in the open space.

They relate the story of the beautiful and sparkling Moon, who fell hopelessly in love with a lone wolf aimlessly roaming the deserted Korean land. For years, She cried silver tears as he sat in the volcano’s caldera, watching his beloved sadly shine in the endless sky. The Stars of Destiny, moved by the depth of their mutual adoration, decided to give the lovers an invaluable present. For one night, the Moon and the wolf would be turned into humans and allowed to love each other, unreservedly beneath the scintillating Heavens.  
When the sun rose, the sparkling tears She had cried slowly gathered in the deep caldera, and from the argent lake, a splendid beast emerged. Neither male or female, but all at once Moon, Wolf and Human, the magnificent creature, named DoWon by the Stars of Destiny, meaning _original path_ , was said to be the first ancestor of the Do lineage.

Jongin knows about the legend, but hearing it as he stands in front of the Heaven Lake, the mist from his breath joining the fog floating around, feels so different than learning all about it from a book, locked in a dusty library.

The prayers continue, offerings are made, first by the common folk, then by the Royal Family.

Jongin watches attentively how both Princes each throw their presents in the dark waters, then mimics them when his turn comes, standing on tense legs. He knows very well what he has to pray for, but as the silver sword he threw sinks down, Jongin silently sends a prayer for Yein.

If falling stars denied him, perhaps the Great Wolf would answer.   

 

 ♚ ♚ ♚

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note : I was inspired by the Korean mythology about the Paektu Mountain, and the Great White Wolf story is also vaguely inspired by Ungnyeo’s myth.  
> “Do” means path, road, way; “Won” means source, origin, beginning; I thought it was a nice name for the very first Do ancestor.  
> And with time, I imagined the first particle of his name became their family name.


	3. Chapter 3

Growing up, Jongin had taught himself not to be curious. Whenever he did ask questions, he had either been reprimanded, or completely ignored. And on the rare occurrence he was given an answer, they had always been vague and, more often than not, unhelpful.

It was useless for him to be curious. Jongin knows that.

Which is why he cannot understand himself whenever his mind wanders and wonders.

There are so many things he wants to know.

How cold will it be, in the dead of winter ? How close are the wolves he can hear howling every night ? How many books are really in the library ? Could he read them all ? How is Jongdae always so cheerful ? What is that strange ring Kyungsoo always wears and twirls around his finger ? When will the first snowfall come ? Will it be as magical as Jongin imagined ? As beautiful as Yein described it ? When Jongin dreams about Yein, is she dreaming about him too ? Is she dreaming at all, now ? Is she better ?  Why is Kyungsoo smiling so happily every time Jongin sees him comes back to the Palace by the back gate ? Will Jongin ever feel like he belongs somewhere ? Like he belongs here ? What makes Kyungsoo smile like this ? _Who_ makes him smile like this ? Will Kyungsoo one day smile at him the same way ? Will Kyungsoo ever smile at him at all ?

Growing up, he had taught himself not to be curious. And it is only now, a couple months before turning nineteen, that Jongin finally understands why he really should not be. It is only now that he realizes some questions are better left unanswered.

 

Jongin is about to enter the library when Queen HyeYeong’s voice makes him freeze. It is clearly coming from inside, but with the door still closed, there was no way she could have seen him. The anger in her voice was definitely not directed towards him, for once.  
Yet, the relief he feels quickly dissipates when he hears a second voice. A very familiar one, albeit not well-known because of conversations he would have had with its owner.

Kyungsoo sounds mad. Even more than when he used to snap at Jongin, before he started ignoring him.

“That is not fair ! I never asked for any of this !” the Prince claims, and Jongin gets a little closer to the heavy door, “Why should I be the one facing the consequences for something I am not responsible of ?”

“You are a Prince. You have a duty towards your Kingdom, towards our people,” the Queen coldly replies.

It is not the same icy tone she uses to talk to him, yet, Jongin knows he would immediately cower away if she ever addressed him that way.  
Kyungsoo, however, does not back out.

“You deprived me from the one thing I ever asked for, and trapped me into this marriage, all because of a stupid war you were too afraid to engage in !”

Not that he had doubts, but Jongin is now certain of what the argument is about. And if Kyungsoo had never clearly voiced it out before, or at least not in the younger’s hearing range, it is now evident how he feels about being forced to wed Jongin.  
But before he can even start to wonder about that one thing Kyungsoo ever asked for, the answer is offered to him.

“I do not want to hear another word about this. Kyungsoo, you will not see that girl ever again, am I clear ? I forbid it.”

Like a blunt blade, Jongin feels the sharp words leave a messy cut on his heart. He feels it bleed, burgundy tears dripping out of the wound.

“Mother, I-”

“Have you even thought about what would happen if anyone was to know you were having an affair ?”

“I am not having an affair !” Kyungsoo protests, sounding like he is trying to control his fury.

“This peasant could ruin everything your ancestors built !”

“Do not talk about her like that ! Yerim is-”

A new slash in his chest, even deeper, brings burning tears in Jongin’s eyes.

“You will watch the way you address me, Kyungsoo,” the Queen warns, voice ice-cold, “I might be your mother, but I am the Queen of this Kingdom, first and foremost. There will be no arguing. You will stop seeing her.”

“Mother-”

“Do not force me to take drastic measures to make you obey.”

Before he can be sure the argument is over, Jongin is already stumbling away. He had heard enough.

And as he steps outside the Palace, tears streaming down his cheeks, his blurry eyes notice snowflakes softly dancing in the air. They float, light and immaculate, gently carried by the breeze, before landing on the stone ground, silently.

Jongin had often wondered if a snowfall was as enchanting as he imagined.

But in the pale daylight, Jongin can only feel the cold seeping through the raw gash in his heart, crimson pearls falling and decorating the white cloak covering the Palace like vibrant beaded embroideries.

He is not sure why it hurts. Even less why it hurts that much. Kyungsoo had never promised him anything. He had never even been nice to him.

So Jongin does not get why he feels so betrayed.

He has to wait for a few days after overhearing the argument between the Queen and her son to finally put a word on that reason. But naming it does not help him understand _why_ he feels that way.

He keeps mostly quiet after that day, trying his best to stay out of Kyungsoo’s way, even more than he used to, before. His efforts are however hindered by the Prince, who seems to seize every chance he gets to throw Jongin icy and angered stares.

It is more painful every time, and Jongin does not know how much more he will be able to bear before he eventually crumbles.

He is on his way back to his room, one night, relieved that Kyungsoo had been absent during dinner, when his heart seems to finally reach his breaking point.

Kyungsoo is walking in the front hall when Jongin notices him. And it only takes one look for him to know.

He can see it in the way Kyungsoo’s eyes shine with tenderness. He sees it the slight upward curve of his soft smile, in the peaceful steps he takes. He met that girl, tonight. Yerim.

A second later, Kyungsoo’s face suddenly darkens and, once again, it is all Jongin needs to know; Kyungsoo saw him.

The younger bows, eyes looking down. He does not want to see the hatred in Kyungsoo’s dark orbs. His heart cries and thrashes, fighting to rip his skin and get out of his chest, trying to make Kyungsoo see how much it hurts. But Jongin stays silent.

 He keeps walking. And in the confine of his room, shivering under the cold blanket, his soul shatters silently.

  
 ♚

   
“Her Majesty the Queen wants to see you, Your Highness.”

This is probably the sentence Jongin hates the most. Unfortunately, it comes out of Jongdae’s mouth quite a lot, lately. More specifically, since the day she entered Yein’s room and found Jongin sitting on the ottoman.

To say that she looked upset would be a euphemism. She was furious. And Jongin had bowed so many times as he apologized, that he could still remember the sound of his back cracking even three weeks later.  
  
From the following morning, the Queen had requested, or ordered, really, for a guard to always be in Jongin’s shadow. Not to protect him, but rather to make sure he would not do anything she could be displeased with. He felt like a dog on a leash.  
And as if this was not burdening enough, she had also decided to teach Jongin the manners she deemed he lacked on. Which unequivocally meant adding a muzzle to go with the leash.

  
  
_Do not respond to questions or remarks made to you with mere monosyllables. This is disagreeable, if not fairly insulting. Have something to say, and say it._

_Do not use nasal tones when you speak, and moderate your tones._

_Do not gesticulate when you are having a conversation._

_Stand straight, do not slouch._

_Do not speak hurriedly. Use a slow pace._

_Do not speak unless you are certain your opinion is of interest._

_Do not speak._

_Do not._

 

So Jongin does not.

And slowly, he withers away.

He stops talking, does not eat much, stays locked in his room, only getting out when meals are served, since he cannot escape those.

Even Jongdae, as lighthearted as he is, cannot get Jongin to smile or to speak unless it is absolutely imperative.

 

That day, as Jongin exits the Queen’s study and walks away, his assigned guard, who had been waiting outside the door, immediately straightens his back and closes up the distance, following one step behind the Prince. Jongin hates it, but knows there is nothing he can do or say.

He walks up to the front hall and heads outside. The leaf-stripping wind hits him, carrying away the sound of his steps on the stoned ground as he makes his way towards the backyard pond.  
A thin layer of ice is already covering the water, snowflakes waltzing on the surface with the breeze as dance partner. The snowfall had stopped before noon, for that day anyway, but not before thickening even further the white blanket already laying on the whole Kingdom.

Jongin cannot do much in this weather, except stare.

He is not really here for the scenery, anyway.

He had seen Kyungsoo leave the Palace, earlier that morning, the hood of his winter cloak pulled low on his head. And Jongin had instantly known where he was going. Or rather, _who_ Kyungsoo was going to meet.

From the wooden bridge above the deep pond, Jongin knows he will be able to see the Prince when he returns. He has done this a lot since he overheard the conversation between Kyungsoo and his mother.

The elder had thankfully never noticed him, far too lost in his delighted mind, breaking the rule his mother had set.  
Jongin will not say anything. He is only here to let his eyes indulge in the Prince’s smile.  
Sometimes, he likes to imagine Kyungsoo is smiling that way because he is coming back to the Palace; Coming back to _Jongin_. He knows how foolish this is, but on some days, it is the only way for him to stop the tears from cascading down his face.

“Jongin, what are you doing outside ? You are going to freeze,” a familiar voice makes him jolt but before he has the time to see who it belongs to, his assigned guard bends in a deep bow.

A quick peek later, Jongin is bowing too.

“Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness.”

“Jongin, you do not have to-” Seungsoo starts before halting his words and sighing. He turns his eyes toward the guard, “You can take a break Insung-ssi. I will stay with him,” he politely says.

“Her Majesty the Queen instructed-”

“Soldier Jo. You are dismissed for the time being. Take a break.”

This time, Seungsoo’s voice clearly sounds like an order. An order you would not want to go against.

The guard bows once again before hastily walking away.

“How are you, Jongin ?” Seungsoo asks once the man is out of sight.

“I am fine, Your Royal Highness,” Jongin answers with a courteous bow of his head. Then, he remembers the Queen’s words. ‘ _If someone of higher rank inquiries about you, answer amiably but shortly. Do not ask back, it would be disrespectful. They will, most likely, only ask out of politeness, and not to start a conversation._ ’ He does not want to be respectful. But does not want to seem rude either, so he settles with a simple “I hope you are feeling likewise.”

That should be enough, should it not ?

“I am, thank you,” the Crown Prince replies with a full smile, as if Jongin had just brightened his day, “What are you doing out here in the cold ?”

It seems like Seungsoo does want to converse with him. Jongin is a little baffled, like every time the Crown Prince acts this way, but he knows better than to show it.

“I was only getting some fresh air after my...lesson,” he says, hesitating a second too long before finishing his sentence.

Seungsoo nods, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“I am truly sorry. I am aware how much of a hard time my mother is giving you. And I know I asked this of you before but, please, do not hold it against her,” the Crown Prince says with a subtle plea in his tone.

“I would never. I just...”

“You just what ?”

Jongin sighs, looking away.

“I do not know how to fulfill her expectations. I do not think I will ever be good enough... Your Royal Highness,” Jongin explains, adding the honorific after a pause when he remembers _who_ he is talking to.

“You already are, Jongin,” the elder replies gently, but Jongin shakes his head, eyes focusing on the frozen waters under the bridge.

“I keep making mistakes. No matter how hard I try, it is never enough,” he exhales, eyelids falling shut.

He has no idea why he is telling all this to the Crown Prince, or why it is so easy to open up to the elder.

‘ _They will, most likely, only ask out of politeness, and not to start a conversation._ ’

Was Seungsoo only trying to be polite ? Did Jongin look so pitiful the Crown Prince had felt obliged to come and see what was wrong ?

“Jongin,” Seungsoo softly sighs and the younger looks up, “You are doing just fine. It was a big change for you, to come live here. It is natural to take some time to adjust.”

“I am tired of disappointing the Queen,” Jongin timidly admits, lips quivering, “I am trying to please her, I promise, I really am. But I never- I just- ...I do not want the Queen to despise me even more,” he finishes, biting his lower lip to prevent his eyes from spilling hot tears.

“She does not dislike you, Jongin. She-” Seungsoo halts his words and pauses before sighing once more as he looks down, “This has absolutely nothing to do with hatred, you have to believe me.”

Jongin wants to ask. But he does not. He is not supposed to. And the Crown Prince is, most likely, only saying that _out of politeness_.

Silence falls on the both of them and they stare at the brisk December wind swiping snowflakes in the air, until the sound of footsteps on gravels alert them. For a second, Jongin panics. Kyungsoo never noticed him, but with the Prince’s elder brother here, Jongin is not as invisible as he usually makes himself.

Kyungsoo slowly walks on the pathway, face hidden underneath his hood, and Jongin cannot see his face but he knows there is a soft smile gracing his full lips. Just when Jongin catches Kyungsoo twisting that ring on his index finger again, Seungsoo fully turns around and the younger hears him inhale, as if about to call his brother.

He cannot let this happen.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, he reaches out on reflex and grabs Seungsoo’s arm, effectively cutting him. The elder looks back at him in confusion and Jongin shakes in head.

“Please, don’t,” he breathes out, and his face must look as alarmed as his mind is, because Seungsoo faces him once more and leans on the bridge’s rail, clearly letting go of his previous intention.

Jongin quickly peeks at Kyungsoo to make sure the Prince has not noticed them, only relaxing when he sees him still making his way towards the Palace.

When he looks back at the Crown Prince, the elder is scrutinizing him, squinted eyes focused on his face.

The silence stretches and Jongin fidgets on his feet, not knowing what to set his eyes on.

“How are things going with Kyungsoo ?” Seungsoo eventually asks.

He is only asking _out of politeness_ , because he does not understand the panicky reaction, Jongin reminds himself. _Answer amiably but shortly_.

“Prince Kyungsoo is quite busy. We do not get to...spend much time together,” Jongin says, forcing a smile.

It is not exactly a lie, Jongin tries to convince himself. The Prince _is_ busy, spending time outside while Jongin is either in the library or in his room.

Seungsoo nods.

“Kyungsoo will turn twenty in a month time, this is when he will officially take the lead of our military. He will be in charge of the largest battle unit, and he is training really hard to merit that position,” he says with a proud expression, “I am sorry this is affecting your time together. I can talk to him about it, if you want me to,” the Crown Prince suggests before frowning when he sees Jongin’s eyes widening.

The younger quickly shakes his head, suddenly picturing Kyungsoo’s reaction if his brother ever mentioned this conversation.

“No ! It is fine, things are fine, Your Royal Highness,” Jongin hastily says, “Thank you for offering, but you do not have to,” he adds with a slight bow, hoping he was able to convince Seungsoo.

 _Please, don’t_.

His heart would not be able to handle Kyungsoo hating him even more, even if Jongin doubts it would even be possible.

Seungsoo is watching him intently, as if trying to read his mind.

He cannot know. Jongin does not need to let him know.

He does not need to mention the Prince is ignoring him. He does not need to say Kyungsoo is not hiding how much he loathes Jongin. He does not need to talk about that girl the elder goes to see almost every day. He does not need to confess how much his heart screams when he sees the hatred in Kyungsoo’s eyes, or how much it bleeds when he witnesses the smile the elder reserves for that girl.

He does not need to.

Seungsoo does not need to know.

But somehow, he already does.

“You do not have to lie to me, Jongin,” the Crown Prince softly declares with a sad smile.

Of course he has to. What good could it bring, anyway, if he told Seungsoo about how much it all hurts ?  
None. He knows that.

But Seungsoo’s eyes are still fixed on him. They are in no way similar to Kyungsoo’s. But the concern and care he sees in them is making his heart ache. Oh, how he wishes Kyungsoo would look at him that way, just once.

And without thinking, chest tightening painfully, he reveals what he had kept inside.

“I overheard a conversation. Between the Queen and Prince Kyungsoo. I know I should not have eavesdropped, but... ”

“What was the discussion about ?”

“A...girl ? Yerim is her name, I think.”

“Oh... So, you know about her,” the elder sighs, pausing for a few seconds before looking back at Jongin, “You do not have to worry about it. He will not see her anymore.”

Jongin looks away, eyes unconsciously drawn to the gait Kyungsoo always uses.

“I know the Queen has asked him not to...” he says, nodding subtly, eyes shifting down towards the ground.

“But ?” Seungsoo asks, obviously sensing the sentence was left unfinished, “Jongin, what is it ?”

Jongin hesitates. He does not want to put Kyungsoo in a bad situation. But neither does he want to be in trouble himself. If anyone finds out he knew about Kyungsoo’s escapades but did not say anything… And Seungsoo does not seem ready to let it go.

“I think...this is where he was coming from, just now,” Jongin eventually replies, still looking down.

He does not want to see the Crown Prince’s reaction. But he cannot avoid hearing his sigh.

“Are you sure ?”

Jongin never had confirmation, but the smile on Kyungsoo’s face was enough for him to know. So he nods.

“But it is fine,” he says right after, looking back up, “I- I do not mind.”

“You are lying again,” Seungsoo gently says.

“But I understand !” he quickly affirms, “He seems to really...care about her. He should not have to give her up because of me…”

“Yes, he should. You two are married. I do not think he measures the risk he is taking,” the Crown Prince declares, eyebrows furrowing, “If this was to be publicly exposed, it could have disastrous consequences. On the family, and on your reputation.”

Jongin frowns. Somehow, he had never thought about what people would say about him if Kyungsoo’s relationship with this girl was disclosed. He had only imagined how badly it would affect Kyungsoo, how sad the Prince could be, and how he would hate Jongin even more if he had to irrevocably stop seeing her because of him.

“I truly do not mind,” he says, shaking his head with urgency, “It is unfair to ask of him to let her go.” Jongin pauses, trying to compose himself. ‘ _Do not speak hurriedly. Use a slow pace._ ’ He takes a deep breath and exhales calmly, “We should not be married. If everything had happened the way it was supposed to, he would still be free to be with her. How could I ever dare to interfere ?”

“This is unfair to you as well, Jongin. You did not ask for this situation, either,” Seungsoo says, frowning even further, “But you exchanged vows, nonetheless. And he is being unfaithful, without any regard of the prejudices his unreasonable actions could cause to you.”

Jongin lowers his head, eyes stinging and guilt constricting his throat.

He had not thought the Crown Prince would end up being upset with his brother. No matter how much he was hurting, Jongin did not want Kyungsoo to be reprimanded. He still did not even know _why_ Kyungsoo’s behavior was saddening him that much. Surely, he was used to it by now, and he did not expect things to change, so why did his heart ache more than when he first got here, half a year ago ?

“Even so, it would be inconsiderate of me to come in between them,” he quietly says.

“By the Stars, Jongin, how can you not be resentful towards my brother ?” Seungsoo snaps in an indignant tone and Jongin flinches.

His eyes quickly fill with tears he tries to repress.

“Because I have no right to be,” he answers in a shaky breath, “This is all my fault. If it were not for me and my stupid wishes, Prince Kyungsoo would be free to love the one his heart has chosen.”

“Jongin, we already discussed that... What happened is not your fault.”

“But it is ! And everyone is suffering because of me ! Yein- She... She might never come back... My parents, my brother, they are heartbroken ! Your parents... You... I took away the person you loved. And I stole Kyungsoo’s freedom !” Jongin exclaims in one breath, neglecting honorifics and royal titles, “I _am_ resentful ! Towards myself !”

Right as the last word passes through his lips, tears break the barrier of his eyes, silently cascading on his freezing cheeks.

At his surprise, the Crown Prince lets out a joyless chuckle.

“Your sister used to joke about how she was always right, and I liked to tease her about it. But it is amazing how right she was when it comes to you,” Seungsoo sighs and Jongin sniffles, looking up at the elder, “You are exactly the way she described you. So prone to blame yourself for things you are in no way responsible of. So stubborn,” he sadly smiles, “But more than anything, so heavy hearted and sorrowful...”

“She was right about you, as well...”

“She was ?” Seungsoo asks, and Jongin can see the spark of delight in the elder’s eyes.

He was probably happy Yein talked about him to Jongin.

“So prone to comfort people, even when they are at fault for their own misery...”

Seungsoo sighs, once again, and Jongin feels bad. This is all the Crown Prince seems to do whenever they talk.

“Do you want to hear a story, Jongin ?” Seungsoo then asks, and the younger hesitantly nods, “Have you noticed the ring Kyungsoo always wears ?”

“The one with the red stone ?”

“Yes. This ring is very special.”

“H- How come ?”

“It is a family heirloom, given to my brother on his fourteenth birthday, by our grandfather.”

Jongin remembers learning about how important a fourteenth birthday was for boys in the Do’s Kingdom, for it was then they could start training in the military.

He is not sure what this story is leading to, but Seungsoo seems to wait for some kind of answer.

“Your grandfather... King GeunHyung ?” he says, vaguely remembering the only brief time he had met the old man, back when he was ten.

“Yes,” Seungsoo nods, “He was not supposed to be King, did you know that ?” Jongin shakes his head. He does not recall reading anything about it in his books back home, “I am not surprised,” Seungsoo adds with a small smile, “My family tends to avoid relating facts that show weakness.”

“Weakness ?”

“My grandfather had two elder brothers. Early in his life, the oldest had already decided to enter into Holy Orders. So the second one had naturally been designated as the Crown Prince. My grandfather being the youngest, and the only one left, was supposed to lead the military, just like Kyungsoo will.” Jongin raises his eyebrows at the unexpected mention of the Prince, but stays silent, “And just like Kyungsoo...he was in love with a girl.” _In love_. Jongin’s heart misses a beat at the words, but the Crown Prince does not seem to notice his grimace, “A commoner. She was the daughter of a farmer. From what I heard, she was very beautiful and gentle.”

Jongin frowns. He is certain none of his books mentioned King GeunHyung’s wife being a commoner. He is almost sure the former Queen was a noble who used to live in the Choi’s Kingdom.

“Unfortunately, the Crown Prince died before his twentieth birthday. And my grandfather, who was only sixteen at that time, had to take over and endorse the future of the Crown. As well as the responsibilities it implicated.”

“He could not be with her anymore...” Jongin whispers, his heart hurting for the late King.

Now he starts to understand why Seungsoo brought up this story, and his younger brother. The situations were similar in many ways.

“He was forced to marry a more suitable girl. My grandmother was extremely kind, and they lived well together. But I do not think he ever loved her as much as he did this other girl,” Seungsoo explains with melancholy, “He never said goodbye to her.”

“W- Why not ?”

“His parents knew how much he cared for her. But they could not allow it... They sent her away, without him knowing, and he never got to see her again.”

“This is so sad...”

“It is. Do you remember the ring ?” Seungsoo asks and Jongin nods again, “He had had it made for her, before his brother died. As a promise. An engagement ring, for when he would propose to her. It holds a garnet he had imported from India. Do you know the meaning of that gem ?” Jongin shakes his head, for he had never seen one before, nor heard about it. “Garnets are the stones of love and devotion,” Seungsoo explains, “When you offer one to the person you love, it is a promise. A vow to make them feel grounded, safe and secure,” he explains with a faint smile, “You may have noticed the unusual shape of Kyungsoo’s ring.”

“It looks broken...”

“It is not. It is actually made of two parts. The rings interlock each other so the garnet forms a heart when they are put together,” the Crown Prince explains, “One of the two was meant for that girl; The other one, for himself. But he never got to give it to her... Instead, when Kyungsoo turned fourteen, my grandfather gave him the ring. He made my brother promise he would only give it to the person his heart could not live without... I think he hoped history would not repeat itself, and Kyungsoo would be able to marry the person he loved. He cared about my brother a whole lot.”

“Was... Was Prince Kyungsoo going to give the ring to...”

 _Yerim_.

Seungsoo sighs, looking away.

“I suppose he was, yes. When the time was right. But then...”

“Then, I happened...”

“I am not telling you this story to blame you, or to make you feel guilty, Jongin,” the Crown Prince confides in a sad voice, “I just want you to understand why Kyungsoo is acting like he is. I do not commend his behavior in any way... But this might explain it.” Heart tightening, Jongin slowly nods. “It is not your fault,” Seungsoo finishes with a resolute look in his eyes.

“But he still is unhappy because of me. Because I am here,” Jongin whispers.

“Sometimes the Stars turn our lives in unexpected ways. And we have to make the best out of what they cast upon us.”

“Prince Kyungsoo is doing his best to hold onto the person his heart has chosen,” Jongin quietly counters with finality.

“But, by doing so, he is running away from his responsibilities ! And hurting you in the process !”

“I still cannot be resentful...”

“You are way too forgiving for your own good, Jongin.”

“It is pointless for me to hold grudges, even more so when I am the one bringing the bad situation on myself,” Jongin breathes, remembering how useless it always felt to be disappointed and troubled when it was his fault anyway.

“Your stubbornness is really impressive, do you know that ?” Seungsoo sadly chuckles.

“Forgive me, Your Royal Highness,” he says, bowing his head, “I know I should not voice my feelings out loud.”

“Why not ?”

“I learnt not to, when I was home.”

“Home ?”

“I mean...back home…” he sheepishly mutters, and Seungsoo sighs once again.

“This is your home, now, Jongin.”

And once again, Jongin can only nods.

 ♚

   
A week and a half before his birthday, Jongin receives a letter written by his mother.

In the short missive, she briefly informed him Jongsuk had fallen in love with a Princess he had met last summer, and would be marrying her very soon.  
The girl was coincidentally from a Northern Chinese Kingdom their parents had been trying to be allies with for years, and Jongin cannot help but hope his brother is indeed in love with her. It would be tragic if, he too, was forced into a political marriage.  
But considering the wedding was supposed to be held in March, Jongin had a strong presentiment his parents most likely needed to secure the throne with an heir as soon as possible.

Jongin does not recall the girl’s name. There was no need, when he would probably never even meet her. His mom had written he was welcomed to attend the wedding if he wanted to.  
As one of the Kingdom’s Princes, his presence should have been mandatory. But it was clear he was not needed there, and she was, most likely, only offering _out of politeness_. She might have even just told him so he would know about it if anyone were to ask.

He had hoped the letter would contain information about Yein. This was the only reason he had opened it. There was none, however, and Jongin had dejectedly thrown the parchment away as soon as he had been done reading it, before wearily making his way towards the pond.

His guard is nowhere to be seen, but Jongin does not question it, grateful to escape the constant surveillance, for once.

The Palace is buzzing, maids rushing in the corridors, holding heavy tablecloths, silverware and decorative porcelains. For a few days already, everyone had been working hard, preparing a sumptuous banquet for the younger Do Prince’s birthday. Jongin has been trying not to think about it, and how his own would be merely two days later.

He is not expecting any kind celebration; Does not want it, really. It would only serve as a heartbreaking reminder that Yein would not get a celebratory ball, this year either. She would not sneak into his room right before midnight, after everyone has left, to give him the only present he would get. She would not smile at him tenderly as he gives her yet another seashell jewel he made himself. She would not sing him the birthday song as she holds him tight in a warming hug.

She will probably not even be aware it is their birthday.

Gusts of wind crash on his face as he walks, cold air hitting him even through the heavy fabric of his winter cloak. Teeth chattering, he steps on the bridge, a shaking hand grabbing the damp railing, careful not to slip on the layer of frost covering the wood planks.

He knows Kyungsoo will not be back before at least another hour, but he had already failed to catch the Prince’s return two days in a row, busy being scolded yet again in the Queen’s study; He does not want to miss it again.  
Maybe seeing his smile would give Jongin’s empty heart a reason to stop crying crimson tears.

As the minutes slowly pass, the wind seems to blow even stronger, loosening Jongin’s tight topknot as his cloak flows around his legs with each blast.

Unhurriedly, he reaches inside the belt’s pocket of his hanbok, freezing fingers clasping around feathers and cold silver. He takes out the elegant hair ornament, looking down at the delicate materials, thumb brushing the pointy end.  
He can still remember how Yein’s eyes had been sparkling when she showed him the present Seungsoo had given her for her sixteenth birthday, can still hear the glee in her voice when she told him Seungsoo had kissed her on the cheek, right after.

His fingertip runs along the grey feather, hand opening a little to let the dull light reach the single sapphire embedded in the metal, as a melancholic smile grazes his chapped lips.

If the Queen knew he had taken this in Yein’s bedroom, the day she found him there, she would undoubtedly take it away from him. Which is why he had been vigilant to always keep it in his pocket. He does not even dare let the ornament in his own room during the day, despite knowing the Queen is not aware he had never shared Kyungsoo’s bedroom like he was supposed to, and would hence not know where he spent his nights. If she ever found out and saw the jewelry among his few belongings, she would have his head.

He preferred to have it with him, anyway. A little piece of his sister he can carry everywhere he goes, walking places she used to stroll.

 

Kyungsoo has not returned yet, when snow starts to fall again. Heavy white flakes descend from the immaculate wooly sky and Jongin lets his head fall back, eyes shutting as they land on his face, the strong wind pushing them against his cold skin.

All it takes is one second of inattention. One second during which his mind is focused on the snowflake settling on his eyelashes.  
One second and one snow squall for the ornament to be swept away from his hand, numb fingers retracting around the metal only one second too late.

Eyes opening wide, Jongin watches the delicate pin lands on the ice covering the pond, sound drown in the whistling air.

And it only takes one second for Jongin to start rushing towards the other side of the bridge, slipping on the frost, splinters breaking through the skin of his palm as he grasps the rail.  
When he finally stands on the bank of the pond, boots completely buried in the snow, his body is shaking so hard he can barely stand.

And once more, once second is all it takes for him to get in motion.  
Throwing caution to the wind, quite literally, he takes a step on the ice. Then a second, and a third one. He slowly keeps going forward, nearer and nearer to the center of the pond, where the water underneath is the deepest.

Jongin is only a few steps away from Yein’s pin when he hears it. The howling wind almost covers the sound, but the subtle trembling under his left foot gives sense to the faint crackling noise.

He lunges forward, tumbling down, fingers closing around the hairpin and nails scraping against the frozen surface.

And one second later, the ice under his knees gives in, and all he suddenly knows is pain and darkness.

Splitting and penetrating, the glacial water engulfs him, entire body sinking under. His breath gets caught in his trachea as the cold crushes his chest and, like sharp blades cutting long and deep gashes all over his skin, an excruciating fire ignites every fiber of his being, down to his bones.

Jongin thrashes for a moment, messily kicking his feet to crawl back to the surface. When the wind finally hits his face, he inhales as much air as he can, down his cramping lungs, choking as his throat closes up on itself.  
With one hand, he tries to grip the icy surface, paralyzed fingers slipping on the sharp edge and falling back into the water.

He does not stop moving, fighting to keep his head above the surface, but his heavy cloak is weighing him down and he knows it will not be long until he sinks again.

In the distance, a female voice is screaming. He thinks she is asking for help. But before Jongin can fully grasp her words, he is back underwater, little floating chunks of ice scraping his face as he goes down.

Time seems to slow down as the obscurity submerges him again. His entire body is throbbing, pulsing with fiery waves of stabbing pain the more he tries to swim back up.

Ten seconds pass. Twenty. Then thirty.

Progressively, the pain starts receding. It leaves his fingertips first, then his palms.

Did Yein felt that way too, when she fell into that freezing river ?

At that thought, slowly, Jongin stops moving. Long strands of hair are freely flowing all around his face when he opens his eyes, not minding the stingy sensation.

The light coming from the hole in the ice above him is somewhat absorbed by the dense water, softly reflecting on the hair pin Jongin is still clutching. The feather gently sways, looking distorted by his blurry eyes.

Calmly, he exhales through his nose, bubble of air filling his vision for a few seconds, until his lungs are clenching, oxygenless. Like an empty shell, his body sinks further down as the will to fight evades him.

What did Yein think, as she was drowning ? Was she scared ? Did she think she would die ? Did she think about Jongin ? Did she scream for a help that would be too late to come ?

Did she fight to live when water filled her lungs ? Was she hurting ?  
What was her last thought ? Did she know it was all his fault ?  
Does she remember now ?  
Does she hate him ?

In the exitless maze of her own mind, does she pray for their places to be exchanged, like he does every night ?

 

The moment he closes his eyes, a muted rumble resonates over his head, and he feels the water ripple around him as something, someone, a hand, grabs his shoulder.  
Taken aback, he abruptly inhales, lungs gasping for air reflexively. When all they fill with is icy water, Jongin instinctively start thrashing again, fighting against the raw pain as much as against the arm bringing him back to the surface.

A deafening mingle of panicked voices bangs his eardrum, mixing with the howling wind as he gets yanked across the ice, violently coughing.

“Can he breathe ?”

“We need to get him inside quickly !”

“Is he alright ?”

“Where were you, soldier Jo ?”

“I...”

“Get a warm bath ready ! Not too hot or it could damage his skin !”

“Find my brother. Hurry !”

Seungsoo voice is the closest, and his face invades Jongin’s vision as the Crown Prince quickly rids the younger of his weighty cloak, replacing it with his own. One sleeve is soaked, hinting he was probably the one extracting Jongin from the deep pond. Jongin wonders why he saved him as the elder lifts him to his feet, securing his shaking frame with his arms to prevent him from falling from exhaustion.

Eyes blurry with tears, and throat and lungs searing, Jongin lets himself be led inside the Palace, maids rushing ahead to make sure no one is standing in the way as Seungsoo walks briskly, half bearing Jongin’s light weight.

Only when a maid opens the door does Jongin realize he has been brought to Kyungsoo’s room. Seungsoo guides him in the unfamiliar bathroom right when Jongdae barges in. The Crown Prince nods to the servant, briefly asking him to take over before he leaves, seemingly wanting to respect Jongin’s privacy.

It takes a few more minutes before a few maids dash in the bathroom and empty their heavy buckets in the wooden bathtub, filling it with steaming clear water.

Jongin is helped out of his drenched clothes by the manservant, refusing to let go of Yein’s hair pin even when Jongdae tries to take it out of his shaking hand.  
A husky cry comes out of his distressed throat, inducing a new gargly coughing attack as the servant carefully lifts him up and sits him in the bathtub, hot water sharply burning his freezing skin.

“Shhht, you’ll be okay, Your Highness,” Jongdae hushes him, cupping water in his hands before pouring it on Jongin’s shoulder, murmuring an apology when the Prince whimpers, “I know it hurts, but we need to warm your body to prevent hypothermia.”

When the water has cooled too much, Jongdae helps him out of the tub, drying his still trembling body and his hair before dressing him in warm and dry night-clothes. The manservant then leads him back in the bedroom before forcing him to drink the cup of herbal tea a maid provided, encouraging him throughout his raspy whines when the hot liquid hurt his sore throat.  
Jongdae then tucks him into Kyungsoo’s bed, adding two extra fur blankets on top of the comforter already there when he notices the Prince is still shivering and breathing unevenly.

“Can I sleep now ?” Jongin whispers, feeling like his words are melting together like wax on a lit candle.

Jongdae nods, the crease between his brow deepening as he delicately pulls the blanket higher under Jongin’s chin.

“Has the Court Physician been informed yet ?” the manservant quietly asks, head turned to look behind him.

A girl answers, but Jongin is already drifting into slumber and cannot make out the hushed reply or even recognize who is speaking.  
Right before he falls asleep, rapid footsteps echo near the open door and another voice, louder, deeper and much more familiar resonates in the room.

“What happened ?”

As everything turns black, Jongin’s numb mind wonders if he just imagined the concern in Kyungsoo’s voice.

 

♚ ♚ ♚


	4. Chapter 4

Jongin is alone in the unfamiliar bedroom when he wakes up. No trace of Kyungsoo, despite the sky outside being still dark.

Of course he would not have slept in the room. He might even be furious Jongin had been brought here. But nobody else apart from Jongdae knew they were not sharing the room. He cannot blame the Crown Prince for assuming they did.

His head is pounding, body breaking into cold sweats, but he still forces himself to move, pushing away the added blankets before laying back down when a wave of nausea hits him. The second he groans, someone enters the room and Jongin soon sees Jongdae’s worried face hovering next to him.

“Are you awake, Your Highness ? How are you feeling ?” the man asks in low tone.

Jongin can only whimper as darkness engulfs him again.

He spends the entire day drifting in and out of sleep, feeling miserable during the short moments he is awake, feverish and nauseous. Sometime after noon, the Court Physician visits and, after a brief examination, the old man diagnoses a mere cold and prescribes him plant remedies for him to take until he feels better. Jongin’s mind is too cloudy to really register anything and he falls back to sleep as soon as the Doctor leaves.

Kyungsoo comes in the room after the sun has set, the creak of the door waking up Jongin, and walks straight towards the chest of drawers near the bed. He does not look at the younger, keeping his eyes focused on the night clothes he is retrieving.   
Jongdae enters the bedroom right as Kyungsoo is about to leave, and Jongin’s sees the manservant bow through his blurry vision.

“I will sleep in one of the guest rooms again, so he can rest in peace,” Kyungsoo says in a flat tone.

 “As you wish, your Highness,” Jongdae replies with another bow before stepping aside to let the Prince exit the room, “Although I didn’t ask,” he mutters to himself when Kyungsoo is gone.

Jongin pretends he has not heard, his foggy mind replaying Kyungsoo’s words in a fragmented yet slurred loop. There is no doubt the Prince had wanted to avoid staying in Jongin’s presence, considering the way he had fled the room, making up an excuse so Jongdae would not object. He drifts back to sleep with a heart aching just as much as his head.

Jongdae is being very diligent with the remedies, forcing Jongin to take them regularly despite his protests. They taste horrible, but the manservant is having none of it, and uses Jongin’s body weakness to pour the disgusting liquid in his mouth as he holds the Prince’s hands away from the vials.

“You won’t get better if you act like a child and refuse to take your medicine, Your Highness,” Jongdae scolds him, still keeping his voice quiet to avoid aggravating Jongin’s persistent migraine.

 

An intense coughing fit wakes him up the next morning. Dry and brassy, it makes his whole body tense as he tries to force some air in. Jongdae is by his side in an instant, helping him to sit down and lightly patting his back until it subsides.

“You’re burning, Your Highness,” Jongdae exhales when his fingertips brushes Jongin’s forehead as he gently wipes off the layer of sweat shining there with a clean handkerchief.

Jongin’s chest is wheezing with every breath, hands clenching the snow-white sheets in a deadly grip. It feels like his entire body is on fire, despite the violent shivers making his teeth chatter, nausea getting worse with every new wave of shudder.

“We need to make your temperature go down,” Jongdae continues, worry heavy in his tone, “Don’t move too much, I’ll call the maids so they get a cold bath ready,” he says, walking away.

Just as two days before, Jongdae guides him to the bathroom, helping him over and down the bathtub. The water feels icy in contrast to his blazing skin, but unlike last time, Jongin is too exhausted to utter the slightest sound. Head tilted back against the edge of the tub, he lets Jongdae pour water on his shoulders and chest, over and over again, only stopping whenever Jongin’s start coughing again and needs a hand to clutch on until it calms down.

When his shivers get too intense, and although his skin is still scalding, Jongdae gets him back in Kyungsoo’s bed. The manservant looks so lost, like he does not know what could ease the Prince’s pain.  But Jongin falls back asleep before he finds an answer.

It is once again the sound of a door grating Jongin wakes up to. Still painfully throbbing, his head is pulsing violently with each of his heartbeat. His eyes are burning, a proof his fever is still raging, but he forces himself to open them and looks towards the newcomer, to see if Jongdae came to check up on him once more.

It is not Jongdae.

Standing tall in the doorway, the King is calmly staring at Jongin, and the Prince hopes he is not expected to somehow bow in respectful greetings. He might very well throw up if he tries moving, at that moment. But then the King’s gaze shifts to the left and he raises an eyebrow. Jongin follows his eyes and find Kyungsoo halfway between the door and the bathroom, wearing night clothes. He vaguely wonders when the Prince got here, since he did not hear him enter the room.

“May I ask where you are going ?” the King inquires.

“I do not want to disrupt his recovery, so I decided to spend a few nights in a guest room,” Kyungsoo answers, “Until he feels better,” he adds after an imperceptible pause, most likely playing the part and wanting his father to believe they usually share the bed.

The Prince’s voice is emotionless, however, sounding as if he was conversing about some trivial matter.

“Nonsense,” the King replies with a wave of the hand, dismissing Kyungsoo’s justification as if it was invalid, “You will stay here and take care of him, from now on. He is your husband, son.”

After a tense silence, Kyungsoo lightly bows his head, wishing his father a good night back when finally, the King exits the room, closing the door after him.

“It is all fine, Jongdae-ssi. Jongin is in good hands,” they hear the Monarch say from outside.

Kyungsoo deeply sighs, back still facing Jongin. The younger would feel guilty about the Prince being forced to stay with him, if only he had enough strength to feel anything other than fatigue and pain.

Kyungsoo spends the night on the cabriole settled on the other side of the bedroom, despite the sofa not being long enough for a grown adult to completely lie down on it. And Jongin would not have wanted the elder to sleep in the bed, since his cold could be contagious and he would not want Kyungsoo to get sick, but his heart cannot help but tighten, seeing how the Prince is still trying to put as much distance as he can between them.

They both stay silent. Kyungsoo does not move when Jongin starts coughing, powerless now that Jongdae is not here to help him sitting down.  
He feels so tired. Even turning to lie on his side demands too much energy out of him. Way more than he has. So even if he is not comfortable, he stays on his back, and falls into slumber hoping he will not disturb Kyungsoo’s rest with his stupid coughing fits.

Despite the elder Prince’s reaction, somewhere inside Jongin chest, a little flame ignites, faintly burning and warming his crying heart with a quiet and gentle hum as deep as Kyungsoo’s voice.

 

Kyungsoo has already left when Jongin wakes up the next morning. The sky is still dark, but Jongin knows the elder might have wanted to leave as soon as he possibly could. He was probably needed for his tactical training or a troop inspection, anyway. Jongin is not sure how many days passed since he got sick. Two, three, five, ten; He has no idea. He keeps falling asleep and waking up, and he had lost track of time along the way, the curtains remaining closed, preventing him to differentiate days from nights. Maybe Kyungsoo and his birthday had already passed, and yet another happy event had been ruined by his fault.

This day is not that different, headache and nausea still constant. His fever does not seem to have gone down either and his cough keeps getting drier and raspier, setting his lungs on fire a little more each time, no matter how many cups of tea and vials of coughing medicine Jongdae compels him to drink.  
He spends almost the entire day asleep, only waking up when Kyungsoo enters the chamber. The elder comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing his night clothes, and for a second, Jongin hopes he will walk up the couch. Instead, the Prince silently crosses the room and leaves, without a look for the younger. And Jongin’s heart feels cold, as he falls asleep. Colder than any frozen pond would ever be.  


♚

   
Jongin is no doctor, but even in the thick cloud his mind has been stuck in for days, he still knows it is not normal for a cold to keep getting worse, with absolutely no sign of improvement. And seeing Jongdae’s worried face as the next morning ends, he must be right.

The manservant insists on making him take yet another cold bath, requesting for the maids to bring small chunks of ice to add in the water. Jongin is so tired he falls back asleep as soon as he is sitting is the tub, despite the position being uncomfortable. He is however woken up not half an hour later by a concerned looking Jongdae, vaguely noticing his boiling skin already turned the water lukewarm.

Back in Kyungsoo’s bed, it only takes a few seconds for him to drift back into slumber. His body feels heavy even in his dreams.

He is standing on the beach, facing his beloved ocean. The sun is shining bright, burning his skin and sparkling on the calm waves. Closing his eyes, Jongin takes a moment to appreciate the absence of pain, breathing in the sea mist as deeply as he can, enjoying the way his lungs expand to welcome the fresh and salty air, tongue tasting it on his chapped lips as the ocean breeze caresses him tenderly.  
Until someone screams his name. His gaze instantly falls upon a body floundering in the water, and a second later, rain starts pouring, hitting his face mercilessly. Fighting to stay on the surface, the person calls his name again, distress flowing in her strangled shout. Jongin would recognize this voice even if he was no longer alive. _Yein_.  
In a heartbeat, he starts advancing in the familiar waters, waves turning angry, threatening to submerge him. He keeps moving forward, swimming, eyes fixed on his sister who still calls for him, again and again as she thrashes, the distress in her voice similar to one fearing for their life.  
Almost reaching her, he stretches his arm and calls her, begging her to grab his hand, promising he will save her, this time. But the second their fingertips touch, the ocean turns glacial, a heavy blizzard replacing the flooding rain. Yein disappears and suddenly, he is the one fighting not to drown. His arms flail around him, hitting the freezing water as his feet kick as strongly as he can. But he is rapidly growing tired, the pain in his chest flaring back and making it hard to breathe, lungs clogging when he inhales right as a wave crashes on him. He tries to scream, but no sound is coming of his mouth, and the next second, the ocean has swallowed him.

Jongin wakes up in a jolt, a long and agonizing cry resonating within his mind. Disoriented, head pounding and heartbeat racing, his eyes are shifting everywhere around him as he laboriously pants. Slowly, the walls of Kyungsoo’s bedroom come into focus and Jongin cannot stop a broken sob before it comes out in a strangled whine.

Jongdae is by his side rapidly, but no amount of soothing words can erase the vivid images printed behind Jongin’s eyelids, or the suffocating heaviness in his heart.

He spends the rest of the day fighting to stay awake, too scared the same nightmare could come back and haunt him if he ever fell back into unconsciousness. It had all felt so real. For a moment, he had really thought he could save Yein from the fate he had already condemned her once. Just for a moment, he had really thought he could make things right again.

He is still in the middle of a battle against the slumber that pulls him inward, when the door open and Kyungsoo calmly enters the bedroom, slowly marching once more towards the chest of drawers. He stays silent, aiming all his attention to his task as he rummages through his clothes, and Jongin forces his eyelids to stay open. He knows the elder will not stay long, knows that he will leave right when he will be done, without even throwing a look at him. But even lost in his feverish state, Jongin cannot help but stare at him, the calm and composed look on Kyungsoo’s face somehow helping to ease his tumultuous mind.

This time, Kyungsoo takes his time finding what he came for. Purposefully or not, Jongin cannot tell, but if at any point, he feels the younger’s eyes on him, he however does not acknowledge him.

Until he is about to leave, and Jongin is taken by a new coughing attack, more violent than any he had before, body going rigid without warning.

Usually, Jongdae would come running in the room as soon as it happens, to help him sitting up. But Jongin hasn’t seen the manservant once in the entire afternoon.   
Aggravated by the laying position, and with no strength to push his upper body up, the dry cough is soon choking him, as the time between each spell is way too short for him to properly get air inside his sizzling lungs.

Kyungsoo has turned on his heels and is staring at him, eyebrows knit together as he stands near the door, looking uneasy.  
Jongin’s cough intensifies, wheezing every time he tries to inhale and hot tears pooling on his eyelashes as he desperately clutches at the sheets and pulls, trying to sit up.

“A- are you alright ?” Kyungsoo utters in an unsure tone, hesitantly advancing until he reaches the side of the bed.

Not even registering this is probably the first time the elder has addressed him without venom oozing from his voice, all Jongin can do is lift his teary eyes towards him in a silent plea for help, before he is coughing again, throat constricting and lungs convulsing.

“I can go find Jongd-” Kyungsoo starts, taking a step away, and Jongin panics, shaking his head hysterically.

Survival instincts taking over, as he suddenly cannot seem to be able to breathe anymore, black dots starting to dance behind his squeezed shut eyelids, his hand reflexively grabs Kyungsoo’s, messily searching for it in the dark for an agonizingly long second, before crushing it in a deadly hold, using it to drag himself in a sitting position with the last ounce of strength he has left.  
The elder Prince hisses but strangely does not withdraw, instead supporting his weight and lightly tugging him up. He then shuffles forward and prudently sits on the bed by Jongin’s side.  
Hesitantly, his free hand reaches out and, as if he was scared, he delicately presses his palm against Jongin’s jolting back and starts rubbing it in slow circular motions.

“Fine, I will...stay here for a bit,” he says, deep voice barely audible above the coughing noises as he secures Jongin’s hand in his own.

Kyungsoo keeps gently stroking his back throughout his fit, never uttering any protest whenever Jongin’s hand tighten his hold around his palm. It takes long minutes for the coughing spell to subside, leaving the younger completely worn out, chest loudly whistling with every breath. Exhausted, Jongin involuntarily slumps back, but before he can hit the mattress, the elder’s arm swiftly extends around his shoulder and catches him. Jongin’s head slowly falls back, and he closes his eyes when he lays it on the Prince’s forearm. His throat aches and it feels like someone is crushing his head and stabbing his chest at the same time, but he does not dare moving, cannot even force his eyelids to open, despite feeling Kyungsoo’s gaze on his face.

They stay in the same position for a long time; Minutes, hours, Jongin is not sure, but Kyungsoo does not pull away. He keeps supporting Jongin’s upper body with his arm, breathing silently next to him, unknowingly bringing quietude and solace to the younger’s mind.  
Until he carefully extricates his hand from the tight grip.  
Jongin’s heart cries at the loss, certain Kyungsoo is about to leave and failing to hear the light tinkling clatter that follows.

The feeling of Kyungsoo’s warmth pressed against his side was not something he had ever imagined. But now knowing the comfort it brought him, even as his own skin is boiling, Jongin does not want him to go.

“Jongin-ssi...” Kyungsoo quietly calls, and a minuscule spark flickers in the deeps of the younger’s heart.

Kyungsoo had never pronounced his name, before.

Nonetheless, his chest also tightens in that familiar way that has nothing to do with the illness overpowering his body, both due to the use of the honorific proving the distance existing between them and the fear to answer, for Jongin knows there is nothing he could say that would make Kyungsoo want to stay.

But he does not want to keep the Prince prisoner after he had been so kind, so Jongin opens his eyes, bracing himself and hushing his heart, promising himself he will look away so he will not have to endure the dejecting sight of Kyungsoo walking away.

However, the first thing his gaze falls upon is not the elder Prince’s serious expression, but his hand holding the cup of lemon and honey tea one of the maids had placed on the bedside table earlier that day. The once steaming liquid has probably turned tepid by now, but the fact that Kyungsoo had been thoughtful enough to offer is more than Jongin could have asked.

“Drink some,” the elder advises when Jongin does nothing but blink at the cup, puzzled as to why the Prince was acting so differently from his usual cold attitude.

A husky groan comes out of his throat as he laboriously lifts his head back up straight, inducing a little cough, but the second he tries to lift his tired arm, the cold porcelain is lightly pressed against his chapped bottom lip.

“I will hold it,” Kyungsoo says in low tones, confusing Jongin even further.

Jongin wants to ask. Ask why Kyungsoo is acting so strangely, so differently, so _kindly_. But he is scared of the answer he could get. Scared to hear the King has once again requested, or even ordered, his son to take care of his husband. Scared to find out Kyungsoo is here against his will, once more.  
Jongin knows there is no other logical reason for Kyungsoo’s behavior, but a part of him wants to hope, wants to believe Kyungsoo stayed because he wanted to, because he was, somehow, somewhat, worried when he saw Jongin struggling to breathe.

In all truth, Jongin would even be fine with it if Kyungsoo was acting like that out of pity, or even if he just did not want to tarnish his reputation if someone was ever to spread a misleading story about how he did not take care of his husband.  
The reason does not matter to Jongin. He does not care _why_ the elder is here. As long as it was _Kyungsoo_ ’s decision to stay.

He however keeps his thoughts to himself, and diligently focuses on taking small gulps of the lukewarm tea, as Kyungsoo prudently tilts the cup up and down, trying to evade the intense stare, serious eyes under thick brows burning the side of his face.

Once the empty cup has been placed back on the bedside table, and Kyungsoo has slowly helped Jongin to settle down on the mattress, fur blankets tucked up under his chin and around his shivering frame, the elder finally moves away. Again, Jongin’s heartstrings twist achingly, knowing the Prince is eventually going to leave and he will be left alone.

“I... I will spend the night on the sofa… If this is fine with you,” Kyungsoo unexpectedly says, awkwardly standing a step away, gaze shifting to look at anything but the sick young man in his bed.

Neither a question nor an affirmation, the words leave Jongin in a state of utter shock. He cannot wrap his head around their meaning, for the beginning conveyed Kyungsoo’s choice to stay, but the last part was implying it was left to _Jongin_ to decide if whether or not he was welcomed.  
Not entirely sure this is really what is expected of him, Jongin remains silent and still.

Growing up, he had never been required to choose anything, not relevant enough to be asked for an opinion. But that night, in the dark bedroom, the swaying candle flame casting enigmatic shadows on Kyungsoo’s pale and unblemished face, the decision feels important, and the elder seems to be waiting for an answer.

So Jongin hesitantly nods, ignoring the pain in his nape igniting a new ache in his head and hoping the Prince sees the movement, despite his obvious reluctance to maintain any eye contact with the younger. He probably does, because the next thing Jongin knows, Kyungsoo has blown the candle out and walks away, sitting on the couch cushion and reaching out toward its armrest to grab the comforter he used the last time he had spent the night here.

Obscurity swallows the room, Jongin’s wheezing breaths and howling wind the only sounds disrupting the quietness. The silence is not a distressing one, and despite not being fully comfortable either, Jongin still finds serenity in it, calmly closing his eyes and sighing contentedly.  
But before he has the time to fall asleep, Jongin starts coughing again, the lying position aggravating once more his breathing capacity.

In a few seconds, Kyungsoo is back next to the bed and already grabbing two large but fairly thin pillows that he places under Jongin’s back, carefully lifting his upper body up by his shoulders, then easing him back down on the added level. As the cough dwindles, Jongin lifts watery eyes up to look at the elder, taken aback by the quick reaction, wondering if the Prince had even _thought_ about it before he was already helping.

“Thank you,” Jongin unconsciously croaks out between whistling pants, voice strained and raspy by both the illness and the lack of use.

Kyungsoo looks startled, the faint moonlight lighting his surprised expression as he seems realizing what had just happened. He does not answer, though, and only  briefly nods as he straightens up, before walking back to the cabriole.

The new elevated position is a relief for Jongin lungs, and he falls into Morpheus’ arms rapidly, a small smile lightly grazing his parched lips, little glowing flame in his heart gently swaying as the sound of Kyungsoo’s calm breaths slowly lulls him to sleep.  


♚

   
When he opens his eyes the next day, it is to a gravelly voice hushering unintelligible words and a cold hand pressed on his forehead. Jongin forces his eyes open, meeting the old Court Physician’s squinted stare, carving deep wrinkles in the surrounding skin.

“You have awakened, Your Highness,” the man calmly says, “How are you feeling ?”

_Drained_ would probably be a good adjective to describe the way he feels after spending a night being constantly woken up by several coughing attacks, up until the first lights of dawn.  
Kyungsoo had silently sat by his side each time, not once blaming the younger for waking him up, but despite the comfort his hands brought, stroking Jongin’s back or holding his palm, his presence did nothing to infuse energy in Jongin’s withering body.

His attempt to answer is however hindered by a new coughing fit, head pounding with every spasm of his lungs, and he tiredly groans, eyes squeezed shut to will the dizziness away.

 “You were right, Your Highness,” the Doctor sighs and Jongin compels his eyelids to open, confused.

The old man is however not looking at him, and Jongin follows his gaze, only to discovers Kyungsoo standing a few steps away, heavy brows furrowed in an irritated expression, “It is seemingly not a simple cold. Presumably the flu, if I rely on what Jongdae-ssi has told me about the muscles soreness and the persistent fever.”

“How long will it take for him to get better ?” another voice asks, and Jongin recognizes Seungsoo’s composed way of speaking even without seeing him.

“With intent care and the right remedies, I would reckon a few days, Your Royal Highness. A week, at most.”

“Very well. I trust you to treat him accordingly, then.”

The door creaks as Jongin’s eyelids flutter shut, Seungsoo’s footsteps fading away both in the hallway and in his mind. He is so tired, all he wants is to rest, if only for a little while.

 

“Your Highness ?” Jongin startles awake, eyes falling on Jongdae’s face as soon as they open, “I’m truly sorry to wake you up, Your Highness, but you must take your medicine at regular hours. Doctor’s orders.”

Nodding tiredly, Jongin lets the manservant gently hoist him up and helping him with the few vials full of thick liquids. As usual, they taste absolutely nasty, sticking to his palate and forcing him to swallow several times, further irritating his already angry throat.   
Despite the fog clouding his mind, Jongin does not miss Jongdae’s glance towards the extra pillows he was lying on, and as a reflex, his eyes wander around the room, looking for the one who had placed them there.

“Prince Kyungsoo left to attend his military training about an hour ago,” Jongdae explains, “You had already fallen asleep.”

Too tired to deny he had been looking for the elder, and since he was seemingly obvious anyway, Jongin settles for a light sound of acknowledgement, not trusting his trachea to behave if he tries talking.  
He was not expecting Kyungsoo to stay, and is not expecting him to come back. But he cannot prevent the cold seeping in his heart, flame subtly dimming, when he finds himself alone in the bedroom a few minutes later, falling back asleep as the icy wave spreads inside his chest.

And even the letter from Jongsuk, brought by a maid during the afternoon, and informing him Yein had showed signs of improvement, somehow reacting at the call of her name, cannot achieve to keep a lasting smile on Jongin’s lips.

It is to a cold tingle running along his temple that Jongin wakes up, later, as well as retreating footsteps fading somewhere in the room. The gloomy sky he can see through the window tells him it must be late-afternoon, but the dull light might also be a result of the heavy snow leisurely falling, large feathery flakes colliding on the glass, pushed by the wind.

Something rolls again on his temple, and Jongin registers the light weight of a cloth soaked with cold water resting on his forehead. Jongdae must have laid it here just a minute before, considering how fresh it still is. His burning skin had not had time to warm it up yet.

However, when his eyes shift around, it is not Jongdae they find.

Kyungsoo is seated on the cabriole, gaze focused on the book in his hands. And even in the bleak light coming from the window, Jongin can see them lightly glistening, a waterdrop innocently dripping from his pinky finger, ending its course on the sapphire fabric of his refined hanbok. Kyungsoo does not look up, does not say anything. He keeps still, his eyes the only part of him moving as he reads, and his lips slightly swaying as he seems to chew the inside of his cheek.

Jongin remains silent too, gaze locked on the elder’s face for what feels like hours, the ghost of a smile floating lightly on his dry lips.

 

The same pattern sets itself for the following days. Jongdae comes in the mornings, giving Jongin the disgusting remedies prescribed by the Court Physician and tending to his needs, until Kyungsoo enters the bedroom. Jongin still sleeps most of the days, but in the afternoons, whenever he wakes up, it is always with a fresh soaked cloth on his forehead.

Without a word, Kyungsoo helps him sit up every time a coughing spell makes his body convulse, warm palm endlessly drawing circles on his back until it subsides. He helps him drink the herbal tea the maids bring every now and then, guiding him to the bathroom with a strong arm secured around his waist, whenever Jongin needs to relieve his bladder, before returning to the sofa to read.  
He briefly leaves the room when Jongdae brings dinner to the younger, probably in order to eat with his family, but always returning before bedtime. He spends the nights on the couch too, only disappearing when the first light of the day creeps through the windows, but invariably coming back around the moment Jongdae is finishing to feed Jongin the two spoonful of his midday meal the younger can keep without everything coming back up.

Jongin is quite bemused, despite his mind still swimming in a perpetual haze. But, scared the elder Prince would go back to his previous attitude if confronted to this change, he does not ask the questions burning his lips.

However, as afraid as he is, Jongin cannot stay silent when the next day come.

All the maids coming into the room since morning have been notably well dressed, way more than their occupation demands. Even Jongdae looks different, cladded in carefully pressed clothes, hair properly tied up, for once.

“It’s the twelfth day of January, Your Highness ! Prince Kyungsoo is turning twenty years old today,” Jongdae tells him when Jongin shyly mentions his surprisingly neat appearance in a weak voice, “Everyone is required to look quite...polished,” he beams, lightly patting his grey tunic with pride, yet amusement.

Jongin grins back, smile not reaching his eyes and chest tightening, as the information implies there is very few chances the Prince would visit him today. His heart cannot help but silently cry, as if it lost the warming flame that slowly flickers in his rib cage whenever Kyungsoo is here, sparkling more brightly each time he sits by Jongin.

Which is why he cannot control his gasp the moment Kyungsoo steps in, later, the sharp inhale causing yet another coughing fit to twist his insides.

The elder rushes to the bedside without even shedding his heavy cloak, supporting Jongin’s upper body up, familiar hand returning to his back and gently rubbing it.

Confusion and guilt weighing heavily on his already worn out body, Jongin cannot keep his mouth shut any longer.

“You- You should not be here,” he says between ebbing coughs, voice raspier than ever, “You should go,” he adds when Kyungsoo’s questioning eyes fall on him, brows knit together.

“Why is that ?”

“It is your birthday...” He pauses, then, slowly sighing, Jongin casts his eyes down on the sheets, “She must be waiting for you...”

“Who is ?” Kyungsoo calmly inquires, sounding curious.

“...Y- Yerim-ssi,” he manages to utter around the heart suddenly lodged inside his throat.

Jongin feels the quick inhale jolting Kyungsoo’s chest more than he hears it and the elder’s body instantly stiffens, hand stilling in the middle of his back. He is sure the Prince’s eyes must be wide open, even if he refuses to look up to confirm.

“How... How do you...”

“Does it matter ?” Jongin dejectedly asks, not really expecting any answer, “J- Just go. You should be with your loved one on this important day...Your Highness.”

Because they are so close, Kyungsoo’s chest lightly pressed against his arm, Jongin is able to feel the deep breath the elder takes right as he pronounces the Prince’s title, and when the silence stretches, he finally lifts his eyes towards the Prince’s face. A hard crease carved between his heavy brows, Kyungsoo’s stare is penetrating. So many emotions are dancing in his dark orbs, and Jongin, pinned by the intensity of his gaze, is unable to look away. They are so close the younger can feel each of Kyungsoo’s exhales grazing his skin as he holds his own breath.

Until finally, after what feels like an eternity, the palm on his back slides down, and is removed, giving way to the cold to creep back inside Jongin’s chest and blow the little swaying flame out.

Kyungsoo stands and, adjusting the winter cloak around his frame, he takes a step away from the bed.

“I... I will be back soon,” he says, eyes fixed on the door.

“You do not have to,” Jongin quietly replies, the words burning his throat as his shivering body already misses the solace Kyungsoo’s warmth brought him.

Hesitantly, almost looking reluctant, the elder leaves, throwing one last look towards Jongin before disappearing. And just as the door slides close behind him, Jongin’s broken sob troubles the silence, quietly harmonizing with the singing wind outside his window and the sound of fading footsteps on wooden floors.

 

The faint moonlight is barely illuminating the room when Jongin wakes up again, face itching with dried tears as a clear evidence he had cried himself to sleep hours ago. He can hear music being played somewhere in the Palace, distant laughter and cheerful conversations somehow audible during the melody’s rests.  
But then, much, much closer, an unexpected rustle of paper makes him flinch. His neck shrieks when Jongin’s turns his head way too fast towards the noise, but the complaint dies on his lips when his eyes fall on the silhouette seated on the sofa.

A book in his hands, Kyungsoo is calmly breathing, eyes dancing on the pages. He must have heard the sound of Jongin shifting in the bed, however, because his gaze is suddenly resting on the younger’s face. What lasts only a minute feels like hours for Jongin, as their eyes stay locked.

“Wh- What are you doing here ?” he eventually stutters in a husky voice, eyes confusedly blinking at the Prince.

“Reading,” the elder merely says, as if there was nothing wrong with him being in the room while his birthday celebration was taking place in another part of the Palace.

“But...”

“I have never been fond of these kind of festivities,” Kyungsoo offers, apparently knowing the reason of Jongin’s bewilderment, “I would choose quietness over this, any day.”

Jongin knows this. Because Yein had told him, and because he had witnessed it himself. But as Kyungsoo puts his book face down on the couch and stands, taking calculated strides towards the bed, Jongin only nods, the little spark in his heart gleeful to hear the Prince sharing something on his own initiative.

If he notices Jongin’s red and swollen eyes, Kyungsoo does not mention it. He simply rearranges Jongin’s blankets without a word, properly pulling them up until the fur is tickling the younger’s chin before he turns to the bedside table and wrings the cloth he retrieves from the small ceramic basin. Brushing away a long strand of hair sticking to Jongin’s sweaty face, fingertips grazing his temple for a fleeting second, Kyungsoo finally lays the damp cloth on the younger’s forehead, lightly pressing it to make sure it would not slide off. Jongin’s eyes are riveted to the Prince’s face, heart singing louder every second.

“Sleep a little more. You need rest,” Kyungsoo breathes, hand still hovering on his forehead, keeping the cloth in place, “I will have a maid bring dinner for us once you wake up.”

_For us_.

Growing up, Jongin had always enjoyed the beauty of the Korean language, fascinated by the delicate sounding flow it held. But never once in his life would he have thought those two simple words could be so enchanting to hear. And as Kyungsoo unhurriedly makes his way back to the cabriole, sitting down and resuming his reading, the younger’s parched lips lightly curve in a smile, the little flame in his heart steadily glowing in a deep quiet hum.

_For us_.  


♚

   
The following days brings no improvement in Jongin’s condition. The constant migraine aggravated by his raging fever, the perpetual and piercing pain in his chest, exacerbated by the violent coughing spells torturing him nights and days, the uninterrupted soreness tormenting every single one of his muscles, the obliterating exhaustion. Nothing seems to change, symptoms even worsening each passing day.

“Should he not be better, by now ?” the King demands, one afternoon, as the Court Physician is listening to Jongin’s heartbeat and breathing with an odd looking wooden cylinder.

The old man straightens up, turning on his heels to look at the monarch.

“There is...another possibility, Your Majesty,” he says, clearly hesitant.

“Speak.”

The tone in the ruler’s voice has the Doctor quickly bowing and uttering an apology.

“It might be pneumonia. An infection of the lungs,” he reveals, head tilted down, “This would explain the pain in his chest, the whistling of his breaths and the unreceding fever. It could also be the reason why no medicine has been able to alleviate his cough.”

Lost in the delirious fog of his head, Jongin fails to grasp the tension in the Doctor’s tone. But as if his mind was tuned to catch any variation in Kyungsoo’s deep voice, Jongin clearly hear the slight waver in the elder Prince’s next words, despite not having him in his field of vision.

“Can you cure it ?”

“I will try my best, Your Highness,” the Doctor says, bowing one more, “But if his condition does not get any better within a week, I am afraid he-”

“You should have diagnosed this from the beginning,” Kyungsoo retorts coldly, and Jongin curiously thinks how he did not hear him use such a tone for weeks now, “ _You_ are to blame for the deterioration of his health. Do what you have to do. Fix it.”

“Son, watch your tone, would you ?”

Jongin knows he should be worried. He can feel his body withering, slowly running out of energy until all he can do is stay still and listen to the sound of his short wheezing breaths. The Court Physician's words should probably scare him. But somewhere in his clouded mind, he can only register Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo and the authority in his voice, the accusation, the demand, the _order_ for the Doctor to do something.   
And Jongin now understands why he heard some of Kyungsoo’s men say the Prince was built to be a great leader of the Kingdom’s military. He has that natural power and strength that reminds Jongin of his own brother. Confidence and force exude from Kyungsoo’s stance, making everyone forget of his somewhat short stature, dark orbs capable of reducing you to silence with one look.  
Jongin is no soldier. But he would follow the Prince into a battle in a heartbeat, if he had to.

 

He is not sure if the Court Physician’s warning is responsible, but Kyungsoo spends the entire following week with Jongin, casting his new official position aside in favor of staying with the younger. According to Jongdae, who still comes in every day to help Jongin take cold baths, the King has strangely not opposed to his son’s decision, assuring the Prince he would himself conduct the troop inspections in the meantime, and Seungsoo volunteering to monitor the military trainings.  
The same did not apply for the Queen, as Jongin suspected, but from what the manservant had disclosed in low tones, Kyungsoo had apparently brushed her protests off when she spoke up, and left the throne room before she could object any more. To say it surprised the younger would be an understatement, but the little flame in his heart had contentedly, almost playfully flickered, and the guilt had vanished from Jongin’s mind.

Most of the time, the Princes both stay silent, and when they are not busy trying to ease yet another one of the younger’s coughing fits, Jongin is drifting in and out of sleep while Kyungsoo keeps endlessly reading, picking books from the pile he had asked his own manservant to bring from his study.  
Jongin has noticed how absorbed the elder could be in his book, making him more and more curious every time he wordlessly observes Kyungsoo’s eyes gliding on the pages. Curious enough for him to ask, one day, about the one the Prince is about to start, his burning eyes aching too much and intensifying the pounding in his head when he tries to focus on the small characters written on the thick leather cover.  
Kyungsoo’s gaze falls on him, for a few seconds before returning to his book, and for a moment, Jongin thinks he is going to be ignored. But then, Kyungsoo’s deep and soft voice resonates inside the room. And it takes a few heartbeats for Jongin to realize the elder is reading out loud.

In rhythm with each word, the little flame glows and pulses peacefully.

Kyungsoo does not leave the room whenever the Court Physician visits. He does not say anything, but Jongin can feel his eyes hovering over each of the Doctor’s moves. And somehow, it comforts the younger, giving him the strength to go through every bloodletting, every cupping therapy the old man tries. His chest and back are covered in circular bruises, and the repeated loss of blood has reduced him to a motionless body Kyungsoo has to lift whenever he violently coughs, or half carry to the bathroom when Jongin’s bladder needs relief. The elder does not complain, and Jongin is too far gone most of the time to feel guilty.

During his few moments of half-full consciousness, Kyungsoo reads to him. Or sing.  
Jongin discovered the Prince had a beautiful singing voice, just as deep as when he talked, when he woke up, one evening, to a familiar melody.

He had forced his eyelids open and very slowly turned his head towards Kyungsoo, who stood in front of the window, one finger rhythmically tapping against his thigh as he quietly hummed, watching the snowflakes land on the glass.

"I know that song,” Jongin had sleepily said in one breath, voice barely audible but startling Kyungsoo nonetheless.

“I am sure you do,” the elder had answered, turning his head just a bit, so all Jongin could see was his profile, “It is a lullaby from your Kingdom.”

“How...how do you...know it,” Jongin had asked between short pants as he attempted to shift to his side, in vain.

“Your...sister taught me the melody when we were younger,” Kyungsoo revealed apprehensively, fully turning on his heels and walking towards the bed. Almost naturally he had slipped an arm under Jongin’s shoulders and carefully rolled him on his side, handling the dead weight the younger was with no sign of reluctance on his traits, “Is it bothering you ?” he had then asked, tucking him properly back under the covers.

And perhaps it should have made him sad. The lullaby was a reminder of not only his Kingdom, but also of his sister, who had always loved to sing. But the melody sounded different, hummed by Kyungsoo’s voice, and strangely brought him peace instead of sorrow.

So Jongin had drowsily shaken his head, the shadow of a smile grazing his lips as his eyelids fluttered shut.

“I had not heard it in a very long time,” he whispered, and the low humming had returned, closer to him, as he fell back into slumber.

“Do you know any lullaby from here ?” Jongin asks in a raspy voice the next evening while Kyungsoo is helping him to sit in the bed, placing the pillows behind his back so he can rest on the headboard. The elder stills for a second, Jongin’s upper body weighing limply on his arm, before nodding, “Could you...sing one ? A bit later, maybe ?” Kyungsoo looks somewhat taken aback, stopping his movement after leaning Jongin on the head of the bed, “Your voice is really nice,” Jongin then confides in a tired breath without thinking about it, eyes shifting down as soon as he realizes what he just said.

The silence stretches, slightly uncomfortable, and Jongin wishes he could take his words back, afraid of how the Prince would react to such an openly affectionate confession. But then, Kyungsoo lifts up a hand, and suddenly, the back of his fingers is slightly pressing against Jongin’s cheek.

“I think your fever might have gone up again,” he says, sounding perplexed as he keeps pressing on his other cheek, then his forehead, as if to evaluate the warmth of Jongin’s skin, “Your- Your face is all red.”

Probably even redder now, Jongin thinks as the little flame in his heart twinkles gleefully, welcoming the coolness of the elder’s hand against his scorching skin.

The next moment, the door slides open and, as Jongdae enters, a tray covered in dishes in his arms, Kyungsoo hurriedly stands up, the rapid and unexpected motion causing a jolt in the mattress, that sends Jongin’s exhausted body swaying back and forth for a few seconds before stilling.

“I am sorry to interrupt, Your Highnesses,” the manservant apologizes, bowing as politely as he can without dropping anything.

Jongin is not sure why he keeps bringing him so much food when he can barely stomach anything.

Surprisingly, Kyungsoo’s manservant is right behind him, holding a similar tray and trying to bow just as carefully. The man quietly marches inside, and after laying the platter on the imposing desk, swiftly exits to bedroom, passing by Jongdae who has yet to move and whose lips are sporting a subtle side smile.

“I need to give Prince Jongin his medicine, as he eats,” the manservant calmly declares, eyeing them both in turns.

“It is fine. I- I will do it. You can leave,” Kyungsoo hastily says, clearing his throat right after.

Jongin tiredly follows Jongdae’s gaze and looks up, head rolling on the headboard as he turns it, only to see Kyungsoo’s eyes boring holes in the wooden floor, jaw clenching spasmodically.

“Of course, Your Highness,” the manservant says with another bow of his head, a very faint hint of amusement in his voice.

He places the tray right next to Kyungsoo’s, and walks away, sending a clearly entertained look at Jongin, who, even further confused, stares at Kyungsoo, with half-opened eyes, eyebrows furrowing despite the energy the simple movement demands of him.

“Are- Are you alright ?” he shyly asks, feeble voice barely above a whisper, scared he was the one causing such a response.

For some reason, his strengthless arm wants to reach up and grab the hand that was on his cheek minutes before.

“I am,” Kyungsoo replies, clearing his throat once more, “Let us eat. I... I will help you,” he says, rounding the bed to retrieve the trays from his desk.

_Us._

No word has ever sounded more beautiful to Jongin’s ears.  


♚

  
Kyungsoo is looking oddly nervous as he tucks Jongin’s under the cover, one morning. The dark circles under his eyes are the evidence of yet another night spent by Jongin’s side as his limp body convulsed, coughing spells reducing him to a moaning shadow breaking into strangled sobs every time he could finally get a semblance of air in his poisoned lungs.

Jongdae had had to carry him from the bed to the bathtub, earlier that day, taking upon washing away the thick layer of sweat himself, as the Prince was too worn out to even blink, head motionlessly set down on the wooden edge.

“How are you feeling ?” Kyungsoo inquires, voice low so to not aggravate Jongin’s obliterating headache.

The dull light coming from the window, faint as it is, still hurts the younger’s oversensitive eyes, so it is with eyelids shutting that he laboriously shakes his head, gesture almost unnoticeable, hoping Kyungsoo will understand he does not feel any better than all the previous times he asked during the past week.

A deep sigh sends warm air against his face and he flinches, the imperceptible movement still sending a wave of pain in his sore body, a breathy whimper grating his raw throat.

“The Court Physician should arrive soon. Try to stay awake for a bit longer,” Kyungsoo then quietly says, laying another cold wet cloth on the younger’s forehead.

Jongin faintly squeezes his closed eyes to show he heard, his chest barely moving with each of his agonizingly shallow breath.

True to Kyungsoo’s words, the Doctor enters the bedroom a bit later. Jongin is not sure how much time as passed, too busy trying to fight the darkness pulling him to sleep and only half-conscious while the old man carefully examines him. As he does, other people come inside the room, speaking in hushed voices somewhere near the door. Jongin cannot really distinguish who they are, the thick cloud in his mind obscuring his senses more each passing minute and he supposes the Court Physician eventually joins them when he cannot feel the old man’s rough hands on his boiling skin.

“How is he ?”

“I fear his condition has not improved, Your Highness. It seems it even worsened.”

“Have you really tried everything ?”

“I am truly sorry, Your Majesty. There is nothing more I can do, now. I would suggest you promptly send a missive to his family, to inform them.”

“What ? No !”

“Calm down. JiSub-ssi, what have you seen ?”

“Nothing more than when I last looked, Your Royal Highness. The Stars of Destiny do not predict his passing. There is still hope.”

“What would you advice, then ?”

“A trip to the Heaven Lake, Your Majesty. Sacred offerings need to be presented to the Great Wolf.”

The male voices keep mingling, titles and names not even registering in Jongin foggy mind, wilting body lying still under the cover as obscurity gradually swallows him.

“I will go.”

“The weather is too hazardous, son. You might-”

“I will be careful.”

A sigh, then, “...Very well. In the meantime, maintain him alive for as long as you can, my friend.”

“I will, Your Majesty.”

“And we will keep praying...”

 

_Prayers never work_ , Jongin wants to tell whoever spoke last.

_Don’t bother_ , he wants to say to the one planning on leaving.

_I am not worth it_ , he wants to let them all know.

_I deserved it_ , he thinks as he finally allows the shadows to devour him whole.

 

To confirm his last thought, Kyungsoo is not here when Jongin wakes up, hours later, moonlight rays faintly illuminating the empty sofa.  
He does not come the next day, or the one after, and Jongin knows.  
He knows Kyungsoo has probably understood.  
Jongin is going to die.  
He does not have to take care of him anymore.    
Why would he bother wasting his energy on Jongin, now ?  
He knows Kyungsoo finally realized he would be free to marry Yerim if Jongin was no longer here.

And this is all Jongin can think about, on the few minutes consciousness comes to throw him back inside the agonizing prison his body had become.

He did not think he could hurt more than he already is. But as the walls seems to close off on his inert silhouette, the deafening silence in the room travels the chilly air, infiltrating his rib cage and blowing out the little flame hidden in his heart. His entire body might be consumed by his raging fever, scorching skin, searing bones and boiling blood, finally turning to ashes the last bits of him. But through the cloud of smoke locking him inside his own mind, embers slowly vanishing, Jongin can feel his heart morph into bloodied ice, until nothing remains but a crimson and frozen stone, as cold as the one Kyungsoo wears on his finger.

 

♚ ♚ ♚


	5. Chapter 5

Everything is white and blue. And way too bright.

Jongin wants to close his eyes, but he cannot move. Like frozen, all he can do is look straight ahead into the blazing light that surrounds him.

There is a low hum whispering in his ears, like ocean waves quietly singing a familiar melody.  
A lullaby ?

 _Please_.

Jongin thinks he knows it.

A waterdrop rolls on his face. Leisurely, from his temple to his jaw, it trickles down his neck and pools in the crook of his collarbone.  
Is it raining ?

_Come back._

Jongin does not think it is.

A warm breeze is gently caressing his face in a slow tempo. A cadenced come and go, lightly flicking his lashes.  
Is he floating ?

_Jongin._

Jongin does not think he is.

He does feel weightless. But something grounds him.  
Around him. On him. In him.

_Please._

The light declines. Sky blues turn indigo, snow-whites dull into ashy greys.

_Come back._

Everything is black. And way too dark.  
Is he dead ?

_Please._

Jongin hopes he is.

There is a red glow, in the distance. Right in front of him.  
A little flame. Softly swaying

_Please._

Jongin wants to reach out and touch it. Catch it in his cold hands. Swallow it and force it back inside his chest.

_Jongin._

But he cannot move.

_Jongin._

The flame is fading. Glow dwindling, crimson shading into burgundy.

_Come back._

Jongin needs to catch it.

_Jongin._

He tries. He centers all his attention on his arm. His hand. His fingers.

_Jongin._

The flame is slowly dying. And Jongin wants to cry.

 _Don’t leave_.

He needs to move. He needs to save it.

_Come back._

The flame vanishes.

_Jongin._

His finger twitches.

_Jongin._

And darkness absorbs him.

_Jongin._

 

“Jongin ?”

The voice suddenly attacking his sensitive eardrums makes his head pound violently and Jongin breathily groans. Everything is so bright again, behind his closed eyelids.

“Jongin !”

It sounds familiar, yet distant, as if he was underwater.  
But Jongin is scared. The little flame is gone. He could not protect it.

He notices the light weight on his arm only the moment it disappears. A grating sound resonates somewhere, as Jongin’s hollow heart clenches around nothingness. The glowing warmth is gone.

“Joohyun-ssi ! Find the Court Physician and bring him here ! Hurry !” Jongin then hears a female voice answer to the order, before the familiar one returns, closer to him again, “Jongin, can you hear me ?” the man asks and Jongin weakly whimpers, voice cracking, “Thank Heavens, we were so worried.”

Rushed footsteps are echoing in the hallway, then inside the room, and a calloused hand touches his cheek.

“I was on my way here. Has he awakened ? Has he said anything yet ?” another familiar voice, raspier and older, inquires, sounding concerned, “Your Highness, can you understand my words ? Can you open your eyes ?”

Jongin wants to tell them not to talk so loudly, wants to beg for them to help him find the little flame, that maybe it is hiding, somewhere deeper in the obscurity, in the deepest parts of his rib cage, but the words die in his throat as he starts coughing.

“Help me straighten him up.”

The whole world is tumbling around him, or perhaps is he the one moving. Something cold falls from his forehead, and lands on his lap with a wet sound. His body feels so heavy, so different from what he was experiencing mere minutes ago. Jongin does not think he likes it. He wants to go back and search the red glow in the shadows. He has to.

When the cough finally subsides, leaving his throat more parched than ever,  the same rough hand grabs his palm.

“Clench your hand around mine if you can understand me, Your Highness.”

He does, slowly, faintly.

The flame is gone.

“Very good, Your Highness ! Now, can you open your eyes ?”

He does. Weakly, wistfully, tiny tears sticking to his eyelashes.

He lost it.

“You are doing well ! Can you recognize me, Your Highness ? Squeeze my hand if you do,” the old man request as Jongin’s watery eyes falls on him.

He does. Shakily, dejectedly.

He is alone now. And it terrifies him.

“Jongin ?” the second voice calls him from his left, from the person holding his limp body straight, and the young Prince tiredly turns his head towards the sound, gaze landing on the Crown Prince’s tense face, “Can you recognize _me_ ?”

Almost imperceptibly, Jongin nods, the back of his head rubbing against the arm it rests on, and Seungsoo’s expression instantly brightens.

How can he look so happy, when Jongin feels so empty ?

“Your Highness, I want you to try to talk, now. It might be difficult, but you need to,” the Doctor says, tone encouraging, “Just a few words, your Highness.”

Jongin only wants to mourn. He does not think there is an existing word that could describe how he feels.

“Take your time,” Seungsoo reassures him, his free hand lightly patting Jongin’s upper arm.

Jongin knows they are waiting.  
But how can he explain the loss of the only thing that kept him sane while he was withering ? How can he express that emptiness, that void inside his heart, inside his soul ?  
How could he say he would rather be dead than living without that warming glow in his chest ?

How could he live without the only proof Kyungsoo’s presence had not been an illusion created by his waning mind ?

Jongin does not think he can. But he does not want to disappoint them. So he settles for what he knows could please them, and after a few attempts, hindered by more coughing, he finally manages to get a sound out.

“W-water,” he croaks out, syllables scratching his trachea like shards of glass.

The next second, the two older men let out relieved sounds, and Seungsoo is grabbing a cup filled with a clear liquid.

“Has he wakened ?” a strong voice suddenly echoes from the doorway, and Jongin turns drowsy eyes towards the King. The man is slightly smiling as he stares at the Prince, taking a few strides to stand at the end of the bed, “We thought we had lost you, my boy.”

The term of endearment sounds foreign to Jongin ears, not used to been addressed to by anything other than his name or title.  
Yein was the only one to use a nickname for him. His father would sometimes call him ‘ _son_ ’, but only when other Royals were around and he needed to give a pristine image of a perfect family. It always sounded forced and unsure, contrarily to when he called Jongsuk similarly.

“Has Kyungsoo returned ?” Seungsoo asks, helping Jongin back down on the pillows.

“As of now, he hasn’t yet, Your Royal Highness,” a man says from behind the King, and Jongin recognizes Jongdae’s voice even before the manservant walks forward, “But the weather has been lenient. We should expect the Prince soon.”

Eyes closing, Jongin frowns. Images dancing behind his eyelids, of an empty sofa, of a dark room, of round, deep, expressive orbs.  
Of a dark red heart, stone-cold, wrapped around Kyungsoo’s finger, broken in two.  
Perfect mirror image of Jongin’s own.

Y _erim_.  
Jongin knows where Kyungsoo is, knows why he left.

“Jongdae-ssi,” the Court Physician calls, “Make sure he drinks a lot, he needs to be rehydrated quickly. Try to make him eat too. Liquid food, if possible.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll go to the kitchen right away,” Jongin hears the manservant eagerly answer before his hurried footsteps fade away.

 

The Prince is alone in the bedroom when Jongdae returns, a tray oscillating on his arm. He carefully makes his way to the bed, steps light on the wooden floor, until he stands beside Jongin and places the tray on the bedside table.

“How are you feeling, Your Highness ?” the manservant quietly asks as he lifts the Prince’s upper body so he can rest against the headboard, pillows behind his back.

“Lifeless.”

Jongdae flashes him a frightened look, and Jongin almost regret telling the truth and worrying him. But his drained limbs and half-closed eyes are speaking louder than any word.

“You scared us, you know ? It’s nothing short than a miracle. We thought you wouldn’t wake up,” the servant confesses, a crease between his eyebrows, “If you hadn’t, then...”

“How long ?” Jongin inquires, hoping the elder will understand what he means but does not have the strength to voice out entirely.

“You slept for almost three days... We couldn’t awake you, no matter how many times we tried. We- We had no way of feeding you, or make you drink anything, and you were barely breathing. We thought...” Jongdae pauses before releasing a shaky sigh, “You had several seizures, probably induced by your high fever, according to the Doctor. You- We were afraid your brain would be damaged if- _when_ you’d wake up... Everyone was very worried.”

“Everyone...” the Prince breathes, head rolling on the headboard to look at the empty sofa. The pile of books is still here, on the ground, next to the armrest.

Jongdae does not seem to notice where is gaze is fixed, and instead, he takes a deep breath and pulls the tray a bit closer.

“We need to give your body some nutrients. I won’t take no for an answer. You have to eat,” he smiles, grabbing a steaming bowl full of some sort of light soup, “The Doctor will come back later with your medicine.”

And because Jongdae looks so relieved, because he has been here to take care of Jongin since the first day he arrived at the Palace, because he has always tried to cheer him up, Jongin offers him a tired smile and slowly nods, before obediently opening his lips when Jongdae brings the silver spoon up.

 ♚

  
“Prince Kyungsoo came to visit you, early this morning, when you were still asleep” Jongdae tells him the next day, as he tucks Jongin back under the bed cover after giving him a bath.

“Was he mad ?” Jongin quietly asks, heart tightening.

“Mad ?” Jongdae looks perplexed, blinking at the younger with a raised brow, “Why would he be mad, Your Highness ?”

_Because I am alive.  
Because he thought he would be free again, and I am still living._

This is what Jongin wants to say.

“I don’t know,” he answers instead, not wanting Jongdae to worry more than he already does.

“He wasn’t. Truthfully, I think he would’ve stayed longer, had the King not summoned him in the Throne room.”

Jongin doubts it, but he keeps his lips sealed. Maybe if he goes back to sleep, he will dream of a world where Kyungsoo had been happy to see him still alive, a world where his dark orbs had filled with relief when he was told the younger’s fever had slightly gone down. A world where Kyungsoo had sat by his side and held his hand, content with just watching Jongin breathe, feeling his heart pulse in the crook of his frail wrist with a delicate brush of his thumb.

His chest painfully twists, clenching around the hollow void the little flame used to dance in.

He does fall asleep. But in his mind’s illusion, he can only wander in the dark, endlessly searching, waiting for the faintest red glow to appear.  
In vain.

Even the wolves, howling in harmony with the wind in the dead of the night, are not scaring him anymore.

He feels empty.  
He is alone.  
But he has no hope left to be terrified anymore.

 

The snowfall has just turned into a pouring rain when Seungsoo enters Kyungsoo’s bedroom two days later, a smile on his face.

Jongin is propped up against the headboard, a closed book resting on the blanket, next to his thigh, courtesy of Jongdae who thought the young Prince could use some distraction while the manservant was gone, requested somewhere else in the Palace.  
Even if he had had the strength to do so, Jongin wouldn’t have opened it, a simple look at the cover making him realize it was the one Kyungsoo had started to read to him. Jongdae must not have known that pile of books belonged to the elder Prince.

“How are you feeling today, Jongin ?” Seungsoo pleasantly asks, sitting by Jongin’s feet, “The Court Physician said your health had slightly improved.”

“A little bit better, I think,” Jongin nods, statement instantly proved wrong when his lungs start writhing and a coughing attack takes his breath away.

Seungsoo is next to him the next moment, gently patting his back.

“It will take some time for you to fully recover,” he chuckles, “But you will be back on your feet, eventually. You genuinely scared us all, I must say.”

“Was there anything you needed, Your Royal Highness ?” Jongin then asks when he can finally breathe properly, trying to change the subject.

He knows Seungsoo was, most likely, only saying that _out of politeness_. It would have been easier for everyone, including himself, if Jongin had just died.

“You are still not ready to let go of my title, I see, even after nearly dying on us” the Crown Prince grins, shaking his head, “I saw Jongdae-ssi rushing to the kitchen, earlier, so I thought I could come and keep you company, that is all.”

“Do you not have...more important things to do ?”

“Are you trying to imply you do not want me here ?” the elder asks with a side smile and Jongin quickly shakes his head, or tries to, afraid he offended the Crown Prince.

“No ! This is not what I meant, Your Royal Highness !” he manages to say, wincing as the abrupt movement sends a wave of radiating pain along his sore spine.

“I know, I know,” Seungsoo chuckles once more, patting Jongin’s shoulder when he sees the younger scrunching his nose at the pain, “Do not strain yourself, your body is still really weak.”

Jongin is about to apologize when the door creaks, slowly sliding open to reveal Kyungsoo’s figure, cladded in his cheollik, unsure expression on his face contrasting with the confident look his military uniform gives him.

“Hyung-nim, you’re here...”

Kyungsoo looks taken aback to find his brother sitting next to Jongin, brows furrowing and lips ticking for less than a second. But a heartbeat later, his face is composed, chin lifting and back straightening, hands holding his jeonrip against his abdomen.

“You are ready, I see,” the Crown Prince answers, nodding, “I will leave you two alone, then. I believe you have to talk.”

With a last encouraging touch on Jongin’s shoulder, Seungsoo is standing up and exiting the room, offering the same light pat to his brother as he passes by his side, before he disappears, closing the door behind him.

For long minutes, the silence is only interrupted by the strong pitter-pat of the rain, hitting the windows as Kyungsoo stands still, gaze shifting around the room. Jongin observes him, heart flinching as a bad feeling creeps in his veins.

He has seen the Prince in his uniform countless times, but today seems different, somehow, and the elder’s obvious hesitation is scaring Jongin, bristling invisible hairs along his spine and up to his nape.

Eventually, Kyungsoo takes a tentative step forward, then another. He keeps advancing until he stands next to the bed, on the side where Jongin is seated, fingertips fiddling with the hat he is still holding. The dull light coming from the window is reflecting on the garnet, stealing Jongin’s attention for a second and sending a painful wave through his chest, before the elder finally talks.

“I heard you were feeling better,” he says, licking his lips as his gaze finally falls on Jongin’s face.

The younger looks up, eyes suddenly prickling. It had felt so long since he heard Kyungsoo’s voice. But not wanting the Prince to see him cry again, Jongin rapidly blinks the tears away and shrugs, wincing once more at the cry of his sore muscles, before slightly nodding, not trusting his voice not to crack.

“Good. I... I am glad,” Kyungsoo says, nodding back after releasing a long exhale, as if he had been holding his breath, “Everyone was quite worried,” he adds, before clearing his throat.

_But were you ?_

Jongin bites his tongue, to prevent both the words to come out and the tears to fall, as he keeps staring at the elder.

_Of course not._

“Were you reading it ?” Kyungsoo questions, and Jongin follows his eyes, only then remembering the book still lays next to him.

“N- No. Jongdae-ssi gave it to me so I would not be bored,” he breathes out, scared Kyungsoo might get mad at him for touching his belongings, “I am really sorry, I told him not to, but-”

“It is fine,” the elder interrupts him in a sincere tone, “You... You can keep it. I do not mind... In fact,” he says, looking back at the rest of the pile, “You can keep them all. I will not...be around for a while.”

The feeling of an invisible sharp knife cutting deep in his stomach takes Jongin’s breath away, as Kyungsoo lowers his gaze to the ground.

“W- Why not ?”

_Yerim ?_

Is he going to leave with her ? Has he reached his breaking point and decided to get his freedom back ?

“The Park’s are having some...troubles at the Chinese frontier,” Kyungsoo explains, cutting Jongin’s trail of thoughts, his index finger tracing random swirls on his jeonrip, “The King has sought help from our Kingdom’s military. I will be leading our best battle unit over there.”

Jongin stops breathing. Only then does he notice the scratch on Kyungsoo’s cheekbones, the bruise on his knuckles, evidences the Prince had been training harder the past few days. And only then does he see the leather belt, and the scabbard attached to it, empty for now, but waiting for a sword to be slided in.

This was probably why the King had called for his second son, for the _military leader_ , in the Throne room, the day after Jongin woke up.

“H- How… How long ?”

“We cannot be sure, yet. A month, two. Perhaps more,” Kyungsoo answers, eyebrows knit together, “It will depend on how the situation progresses once my troop is on the field.”

With a shaky exhale, Jongin nods, looking down at his hands to hide the treacherous tear slowly rolling on his cheek, hoping the gloomy light will help him keeping it a secret.

“We are leaving in about an hour,” the elder continues, “Which is why I came. I thought... I thought you should know...”

Is it _out of politeness_ ? Or so Jongin would not bother anyone by asking where Kyungsoo would be ?

“Thank you,” he simply says, voice nearly cracking as another tear follows the same path down his face.

Kyungsoo lowly hums in acknowledgement, seemingly not aware of Jongin’s internal turmoil, before he starts walking away. He has just opened the door, wood panel grating as it slides, when he stops.

“Jongin-ssi...”

The younger swiftly lifts his head, the rapid motion jolting the tears pooled on his chin and making them fall on the sheets. Kyungsoo’s eyes follow their descent before locking his gaze with Jongin’s.

“I hope...you will recover soon,” he says, eyebrows quivering, “Do not- Do not exhaust yourself.”

Their eyes remain sealed a little longer, a shiver running along Jongin’s spine as he tries to carve the memory of those dark orbs within his mind, a minuscule spark igniting deep inside his chest.

“Stay safe,” he whispers, trembling voice barely audible.

Kyungsoo seems to hear him anyway, and nods once, a breath later.

When he finally leaves the room, Jongin stops holding back the tears and he chokes on a sob, heart crying crimson pearls more time.

 ♚

   
The days pass monotonously as Jongin’s health gradually improve, and winter is slowly giving way to spring when the Prince is finally able to stand on his wobbly legs without Jongdae’s supportive arm around his waist. His time is spent either in the library or wandering in the Palace, looking the light drizzle through the windows, remembering how, a year ago, he was on his way to the Do’s Kingdom, fear constricting his chest.

Kyungsoo still has to return when the snow has almost disappeared, leaving behind muddy puddles all across the backyard as the pale summer sun shines on the Palace. Jongin has no choice but watching the chirping birds from inside the Palace, the Court Physician being adamant his body is still too weak and needs more rest before being allowed to step outside.

He cannot however help his eyes to fix the front courtyard, gaze waiting for Kyungsoo’s figure to appear in the distance, chin held as high as the day he left. He would even be happy to see him pass the back gate, cladded in his cloak, hood hiding his smiling face. Even if it meant he had gone to visit Yerim again.

Which is why, when he passes in front of a window at the back of the Palace, and notices a hooded silhouette walking along the gravel pathway Kyungsoo used to take, his heart misses a few consecutive beats. It takes him a few more seconds to realize the person is too short, too thin, even under the large brown cloak, to be the one he wants to see so much.

With a sigh, he looks away and keeps walking.  
Until a light voice calls him.

“Your Highness ?”

Jongin turns around, only to see the silhouette swiftly advancing towards him. The girl stops a few steps away and slowly lifts her head, revealing delicate features. Her pale skin, bright eyes looking up at him and cherry lips slightly parted, added to the gentle roundness of her cheeks rendered pink by the rapid walk, were all giving her that natural beauty Jongin knows countless men would easily fall for.

“You are Prince Jongin, aren’t you ?” she asks, gaze lock in his, and Jongin cannot help but silently nod before she is suddenly bending forward in a ninety-degree bow.

“W- Who...”

He has no memory of ever meeting her, wondering how she had been able to recognize him despite clearly not working in the Palace.

“My name is Kim Yerim, Your Highness,” she introduces herself, straightening up, as her hand flies up to grab her hood and make sure it stays in place, hiding her face from the two maids passing by.

_Kim Yerim._

_Yerim._

All Jongin can do is stare at her, her name echoing in his mind, bouncing in his head and making his ears buzz, heart tightening, weak flame twitching.

“Kyungsoo-ssi...” she quietly continues, and the name rolls on her tongue with the ease of someone who has pronounced it countless of times, “He said... He said you knew. About me. About us.”

A shaky breath later, Jongin is slowly nodding, averting his eyes for a moment before looking back at her.

“He is not here.”

“I know, Your Highness,” she hesitantly smiles, “He sent me a letter, a few months ago.”

“Oh...”

Jongin’s heart twist a little more. Because here had he been, gaze focused on the horizon for months, waiting for Kyungsoo’s to come back, while the elder was sending secret missives to the girl he loved.

“I know I shouldn’t, but...could I ask for a favor, Your Highness ?” Yerim then says, locking her eyes into his, “I’m assuming the Royal family is in contact with him, to keep track of the troop’s progress ?” Jongin nods once more, knowing The King and the Crown Prince had been receiving reports from the field, written by Kyungsoo. “Then...could you...maybe, send this to him, for me ? I would do it myself, but I don’t know where to address it.”

As she speaks, her hands emerge from between the folds of her worn out cloak, holding a cream colored envelope that she extends towards him, lightly bowing her head.

If the simpler way she talked had not been giving her away, the absence of emblem in the wax undoubtedly would.  
She is from the common folk, no noble blood runs in her veins.  
And Kyungsoo had chosen her nonetheless.

The Prince stares at the envelope, at the pale fingers holding it, before finally reaching out with calculated movements, trying to prevent his hands from shaking.

His skin looks so dark, next to hers.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she says, with a shy, yet blinding smile.

 

When she has disappeared from his view, Jongin just stands there, frozen, still staring at the envelope. He lingers in the corridor for long minutes, hours, he is not sure, eyes boring into the light paper, as if waiting for it to catch fire, to crumble, to reveal what is hidden inside.

A part of him wants to break the seal and open it, wants to read it, wants to know what was so important for her to take the risk to come to the Palace and seek his help.

But he does not.

Instead, he sighs, and makes his way to the Crown Prince’s study, where he knows the elder retreated a few hours ago, knocking on the door when he reaches it and waiting for Seungsoo’s voice to invite him in.

“Jongin ? Please, sit down,” the elder offers with a gentle smile, gesturing towards one of the chairs as Jongin bows, “What brings you here ?”

“Would it be...possible to send this ?” he starts, lifting the envelope, “To Prince Kyungsoo...”

The smile on Seungsoo face turns brighter as they fall on the paper.

“Is it ! Of course, it is !” he exclaims, eyes crinkling and teeth showing, “I am sure my brother will be enchanted to receive a letter from you !”

“It- It is not from me,” Jongin admits, voice low and tone reticent. The Crown Prince curiously glances at the envelope, raising a brow, and the younger breathes out, “Yerim-ssi... She came to the Palace and she...asked for me to forward her missive. The letter he previously addressed her did not mention where to send her reply...”

A deep and long sigh later, Seungsoo is shaking his head, eyes shut as he mumbles his brother’s name, followed by a somewhat rude epithet that Jongin pretends not to hear.

“Let me show you something,” the Crown Prince says, before he reaches out in the pile of documents stacked on one corner of his desk and retrieves a few parchments he then hands over to Jongin.

The younger silently questions him, brows knitted together, but Seungsoo only nods encouragingly, nudging his chin towards what look like letters.  
So Jongin starts reading, eyebrows furrowing even further.

The first one seems to be some sort of report, from a military official, giving tactical details Jongin is confused about. Why would Seungsoo want him to know all this.

When he reaches the end, however, he suddenly understands.

 

  
_**[...]**_  
_**But things are calm, as of now. The Chinese troops are staying on the low. Although I do not think it will last.**_  
_**I hope everyone is doing well at home.**_  
_**Hyung-nim, how is he ?**_  
_**-DKS**_

 

  
“Read the next one,” Seungsoo suggests when Jongin keeps staring at the initials ending the letter.

So Jongin does. Again, details about locations fill the first part of the report. But then...

 

  
_**[...]** _  
_**The enemy has moved. But we were able to anticipate and managed to corner them in the valley.** _  
_**I will keep you informed.** _  
_**In the meantime, Hyung-nim, is he recovering well ?** _  
_**-DKS** _

__

  
Without being invited to, Jongin starts reading them all, skipping instantly towards the end each time, when the neat handwriting proves to be the same, but still picking information at the same time.

__

  
_**[...]** _  
_**We pushed them back across the Yalu River. That should give us enough time to organize a new offensive.** _  
_**[...]** _  
_**But tell me, Hyung-nim, is he eating enough ?** _  
_**-DKS** _

__

  
_**[...]** _  
_**We divided our troop and the Park’s in four battalions to cover as much field as he we could. But they launched an attack at sundown and we were outnumbered.** _  
_**We had to retreat in the mountains, losing the progress we had made.** _  
_**[...]** _  
_**Hyung-nim, has his health improved ?** _  
_**-DKS** _

__

  
_**[...]** _  
_**One of the Park’s troops faced heavy losses, today. Their general is severely wounded, I doubt he will make it.** _  
_**We will pray for him.** _  
_**[...]** _  
_**Hyung-nim, is the Court Physician still confident about his recovery ?** _  
_**-DKS** _

__

  
_**[...]** _  
_**The Chinese sent more troops. Scouts estimated they must have twice our number of men by now.** _  
_**[...]** _  
_**Hyung-nim, tell me how he is.** _  
_**-DKS** _

__

  
_**[...]** _  
_**I will not be able to come home. Not yet.** _  
_**But Hyung-nim, is he feeling better ?** _  
_**-DKS** _

 

  
There are more letters, each of them holding a similar ending. The first one is dated from a couple of weeks after Kyungsoo’s departure, five months earlier, while the most recent one seems to have been written only six days ago.

Had Kyungsoo really been asking his brother about Jongin all this time ?

Jongin cannot fathom why the Prince would go to the extent of mentioning the younger in every single report he had sent, but the words written in black ink, smeared in some places by evident raindrops are the evidence he had, indeed, been inquiring about Jongin’s health.

 

When the Prince finally looks up, Seungsoo is observing him with a small knowing smile.

“Do you, perhaps, wish to add a note to accompany Yerim-ssi’s letter ?”

Without waiting for an answer, the Crown Prince places a writing set in front of him. Jongin stares at the empty page, contemplating what he could possibly write to someone he thought, up until a few minutes ago, did not care about him.  
The Prince surely would not like knowing his brother had shown Jongin the evidence of his concern. And how can he convey his own worry, when he cannot be sure how Kyungsoo could react, reading his message ?

With a sight, he delicately closes his fingers around the thin brush, and dips the bristles into the small ink bottle.

 

  
_Yerim-ssi asked me to forward this letter to you._  
_I hope you are well._  
_Stay safe._  
_-Jongin_

 

  
He folds the short note in two and ties it to Yerim’s envelope with the thin cord Seungsoo provided.  
He hopes the Prince will not be angered realizing Jongin had met the girl. But he does not expect Kyungsoo to write back, anyway.

Which is why Jongin is so surprised, ten days later, when Seungsoo approaches him, a smile on his lips and a small envelope in his hands.

“This was with the report Kyungsoo sent to my father. I believe it is addressed to you.”

Beside the younger, Jongdae lets out a quiet chuckle, but Jongin is far too focused on the missive in his hands to turn around and pay any attention to his manservant.

The Crown Prince excuses himself, leaving behind a petrified Jongin.

“Aren’t you gonna open it, Your Highness ?” Jongdae lightly laughs at one point, startling Jongin, “You have been staring at that envelope for a while now. Aren’t you curious about what Prince Kyungsoo has written ?”

Jongin _is_ curious. But above and beyond, he is scared.  
The fact Kyungsoo had taken the time to write something for him is frightening. It could only be a bad omen, a sign Jongin had sadly succeeded in upsetting the elder.

But he cannot eternally postpone reading it. So, slowly, Jongin makes his way towards Kyungsoo’s bedroom. He had spent so long confined between those four walls, it had become his own room in the absence of its occupant. Mostly because he did not want to explain everything to the Court Physician or the Crown Prince when they visited him.

Eventually, Jongdae leaves his side, and Jongin is not sure where he goes, still too distressed to really listen, but he is alone when he finally enters the bedroom, shaky legs wobbling as he sits on the bed. He is not supposed to wander around in the Palace as much as he does, anyway, body still weakened even after a half-year long recovery process.

He turns the envelope in his hands, brushing his fingertips along the sides, before lifting it in front of his eyes, in hopes the lighting from the window will allow him to see through. It does not, and Jongin sighs once more and drops his arms back on his lap.

It takes him a long time before he finally braces himself and unties the cord keeping it shut.  
It starts bluntly, as if Kyungsoo had not known how to begin his response.

 

  
_**I wish to apologize, on her behalf. You should not have had to fulfill such a demand.**_  
_**But I thank you nonetheless, and I would like to assure you what existed between her and I has ended, months ago. On my twentieth birthday, dare I add.**_  
_**The letter I sent was only to wish her hers, and in her reply, she merely inquired about my well-being, as a friend would do. Please believe my word.**_  
_**I hope you are alright as well.**_  
_**-DKS**_

 

 **  
** When Jongdae comes back, hours later, Jongin’s gaze is still fixed on the letter, a shy smile grazing his lips, a pink glow on his cheeks and a stronger red one inside his chest.

And somehow, the distance between them does not seem so terrifying anymore. Somehow, the separation brings them closer, tied by ink and paper, by anticipation and smiles.  
By hope, at last.

 

  
_Please, do not apologize._  
_She seemed like a very respectable and nice person. Our conversation was brief, but it was not hard for me to fathom the reasons of your affection for her._  
_I hope the rain is not as bad where you are than it is here._  
_Stay safe._  
_-Jongin_

  
**_I am truly sorry nonetheless. Not only for that, but for the way I acted too, towards you._ **  
**_How regrettable it is, that I find easier to write all this, in lieu of speaking out in front of you. It saddens me._ **  
**_I hope you will find in you the grace to forgive me._ **  
**_The rain here is indeed quite merciless. Thankfully, the mountains surrounding us are protecting the troops from the wind._ **  
**_How has your health been, recently ?_ **  
**_-DKS_ **

  
_I believe there is nothing to forgive. I never hoped for much. I understand your reasons, past and present._  
_You should not worry about this anymore. Let me entertain you instead !_  
_The Court Physician finally allowed me to go outdoors, today, and it felt so nice to breathe in the summer wind. But the pouring rain forced me to go back inside as fast as my weakened legs could bear. Jongdae-ssi was quite amused._  
_Please do not be as silly as I was._  
_Stay warm and safe._  
_-Jongin_

  
**_I must admit, your letter had me smiling. The soldiers sent me odd looks._ **  
**_But please, be careful, and do not run out under the rain._ **  
**_You had lost quite some weight, back in the winter, so make sure to eat properly._ **  
**_-DKS_ **

  
_There was a smear of blood on your letter._  
_Are you injured ? Did you try to wipe it off so I would not see it ?_  
_I told you to stay safe, why are you not listening ?_  
_-Jongin_

  
**_The blood was only from a mere scratch on the back of my hand. You do not need to worry._ **  
**_Tell me how you are, instead. I heard about Jongdae-ssi from my brother. How are you feeling ?_ **  
**_-DKS_ **

 

 **  
** It is almost amusing how the first and only time Jongdae called Jongin by his name, the Queen had to be in earring range, the young Prince recalls as he reads Kyungsoo’s missive.

A week earlier, the manservant had been dying of laughter after Jongin violently startled, when a duck loudly quacked behind him, and the name had naturally slipped out of his lips as he told him the look on his face was a memorable one. As if the manservant had been using it in his head often enough for it to sound casual.  
And maybe was it only the lack of title, and the sound of their complicity. Or perhaps was it seeing Jongin’s face looking, if not happy, at least content. But the second they noticed the Queen slowly marching towards them, the laughter had died in Jongdae’s throat, and the smile had fallen from Jongin’s face.

“You will gather your possessions and leave the Palace before nightfall.”

That was all she said, eyes fixed on the manservant’s face, before walking away with all the grace a Queen could have, and the two boys had just stood there, frozen.

A few hours later, as the sun was slowly descending, painting the sky in faded purple hues, Jongin had tried his best not to let the tears fall on his cheeks.

“I will go talk to the Queen,” he had said, voice wavering and tone pleading.

“No, please, don’t. Your highness, you can’t.”

“But this is unfair...”

“It’s fine. It might even be a good thing !” Jongdae claimed, but Jongin could see his smile was forced, even through his blurry vision, “I’ll go back to my parents’. I haven’t seen them in such a long time.”

“But- Maybe if I ask her to-”

“I have somewhere to go back to. You don’t, Your Highness,” the manservant had interrupted as he locked eyes with the Prince, face suddenly serious, “If you upset her, you’ll still have to live with her. And I couldn’t bear the weight of knowing you made yourself miserable because of someone as insignificant as me. So please, Your Highness. Jongin. Don’t.”

“You are not insignificant,” Jongin whispered, shaking his head, “You helped me so much, since I came to live here...”

“Then I’m happy,” the elder had then nodded, a gentle smile curving the corner of his lips up, cheekbones raising, “You’ll be fine, I’m not worried. As long as you stay away from the ducks,” he teased and Jongin let out a strangled chuckle, throat constricted by a sob, “Don’t be sad. I know we’ll see each other again, one day. Just like I knew we would meet again, back when you were only ten and came to visit the Palace.”

That night, Jongin had prayed for the man’s word to be true, as he cried himself to sleep.

 

  
_I feel lonely._  
_I wish there was something I could have done._  
_I also heard from the Crown Prince your battalion has some difficulties._  
_I am praying for all of you to be safe._  
_-Jongin_

  
Time seems to move even slower, now that Jongin spends his days waiting for Kyungsoo’s letters with no one to distract him, and despite knowing how long it takes to the messenger to ride back and forth between the Palace and the elder Prince’s location, his now fully healed body is restless, too impatient to stay put.

Seungsoo has been sending him teasing looks quite a lot, seeing the younger’s eagerness when he hands him the small envelope now always accompanying Kyungsoo’s report. Jongin always blushes, but cannot really find it in himself to try to keep a composed face, the little flame in his heart happily dancing when he finally holds the precious missives _._

 

  
**_I apologize for the delay of this letter. My troop relocated further west on the outskirt of a city that has fallen into the hands of the enemy._**  
**_Things are quiet as of now, but we will attempt to take it back._**  
**_Until I can write again, please take care of yourself._**  
**_-DKS_**

  
_I have seen a great number of soldiers leave the Palace, today, riding their horses through a pouring rain._  
_I keep hoping it was not a bad omen and you are safe, wherever you are._  
_Please, write back soon._  
_-Jongin_

  
**_Autumn has made the battlefield quite hazardous. The mountains slopes can be treacherous after a storm. But we are standing strong._ **  
**_Please do not worry about me and be cautious during the Great Wolf March._ **  
**_-DKS_ **

  
_The March went well, although the recent rainfall rendered the journey longer than anticipated._  
_It made me wonder how hard it was, for you, to fight in those troublesome and adverse weather conditions._  
_You could not prevent me from worrying, even if you tried._  
_Please stay safe. Please._  
_-Jongin_

  
**_My troop will launch a new assault on the city tomorrow at dawn. We are still greatly outnumbered, but I hope by the time you get this letter, the city will be in our hands._ **  
**_I wish to be alive to read you again._ **  
**_-DKS_ **

  
_Your letter was long to arrive._  
_A snowstorm hit the Kingdom and the Queen has fallen sick but thankfully recovered promptly. She is so worried about you. We all are._  
_I am praying for you and your men every night._  
_Please, please be safe._  
_-Jongin_

 

  
Indeed, as much as Jongin worried and impatiently waited, life had kept moving on, and November had brought in its tow a violent an unexpected snowstorm, paralyzing the whole Kingdom.  
Nestled between the highest peaks, the Palace had, however, seemed to be even more severely affected, blizzard confining everyone inside for almost two weeks.

In the chaotic atmosphere, staff working days and nights to guarantee the security of the Royal family, many people had fallen sick. Among them, the Queen, forced to remain in bed on the Court Physician’s advice.

And somehow, one night, being informed her Court Ladies were ill as well, Jongin had volunteered to stay by her side.  
He does not know what he had expected, but it surely was not to feel his heart shattering once more.

“You look so much like her,” she had sleepily said as he sat on the chair next to her bed, “It always hurts to look at you.”

Jongin did not need to ask who the Queen had been talking about. He knew.

“I miss her so badly,” she had continued, voice constricted by tears she was obviously holding back, “Can you not take her place ?”

For a second, Jongin had been so confused, because was it not exactly the reason of his presence here ? Had he not already taken his sister’s place ?

But then, the Queen had looked at him, eyes begging, and Jongin had suddenly felt scared.

“Can you not be the one withering away, lying in a bed far away, so I can have my sweet Yein back ?”

Jongin had remained silent, and watched her look away the moment she saw tears running down his face.

Ultimately, he had decided not to hold the Queen’s words against her and to keep their conversation for himself.  
He understood. Almost agreed.

If he could, he would have gone back in time and never made that wish. If he could, he would exchange his life with Yein’s own.

So, when she had finally felt better and had started ignoring him again, like she had done since he, himself, had fallen sick almost a year before, he did not say anything.  
And although it did nothing to ebb the pain, it was easier to pretend she had been delirious and blame her fever, anyway.

 

  
**_We won this city back. But the battle is not over._**  
**_Please talk to me about home. I miss it badly._**  
**_-DKS_**

  
_If you miss home so much, then you should come back._  
_Everyone is longing for your return._  
_-Jongin_

  
**_Are you one of those who wish for me to return soon, Jongin-ssi ?_ **  
**_-Kyungsoo_ **

  
_I am._  
_Please, come home._  
_-Jongin_

 

  
Unfortunately, Jongin never gets an answer to his plea.

The next missive handed to him, on the very first day of January, proves not to be from Kyungsoo, and when his shaking hands finally breaks the seal and unfold the parchment, the first sentences have Jongin’s knees giving up and hit the ground, breath taken away and heart shattering in bloodied particles carried away by the howling wind.

 

 ♚ ♚ ♚


	6. Chapter 6

_Jongin,_  
_I apologize for being the bearer of such awful information. Our sister’s condition has considerably worsened, as of late._  
_We will keep praying. But the Doctors do not have much hope._  
_It would be best if you could travel back home, as promptly as possible. To say your goodbyes._  
_We will be expecting you._  
_-Kim Jongsuk_

 

Jongin is still clutching at the crumpled letter, fist clasped around the paper, as the carriage makes its way through the Kim’s Kingdom.  
Next to him, Seungsoo is staring at the lowland plains through the window, eyes red and swollen, just as silent as the Royal couple sitting in front of them.

The Crown Prince had been the one finding Jongin on the library floor, frame violently shaking as he tried to catch his breath, eyes still boring into the parchment in his hand. And he did not need to say anything for Jongin to know Jongsuk might have addressed a second letter to the Do’s.  
Seungsoo’s expression spoke of thousand words.

He had stood there for a minute, before grabbing Jongin’s arm and forcing him to stand up, leading him then to Kyungsoo’s room and briefly telling him to pack some clothes.  
Like a marionette well controlled by its puppeteer, Jongin had numbly complied, and within the next hour, after the King had had a letter sent to Kyungsoo to inform him of their imminent departure, the four of them had embarked the carriage.

Thirteen excruciatingly long days into the journey, Jongin still feels in a state of trance, not having uttered a single word since he had read those dreadful words.  
He cannot help but think of how ironic all of this is, as if life is mocking him.  
How twisted is it, that Yein had seemed to get better while Jongin was falling sicker by the minute ? And how laughable is it, really, that she suddenly gets worse now he has fully recover ?

On the morning of the twin’s birthday, the carriage finally passes the gates of the Kim’s Palace, and Jongin does not wait more than a second once it has stopped, to climb out and march towards Jongsuk, who has just walked through the grand doors.

He can hear the Do’s, behind him, footsteps composed on the stony ground, but he does not care.

“Where is she ?” he breathes as soon as he stands in front of his brother, discarding proper greetings.

“They brought her back in her old bedroom,” the Crown Prince quietly answers, seeming to understand Jongin’s impoliteness, and the younger breaks into a run half a heartbeat later.

He does not care what people will say. Maids, servants, Court Ladies, they can all look away if they deem his behavior unsuitable to that of a Prince.  
He stayed silent and still for so long. Now he just needs to see his sister. He needs to hold her hand.  
She cannot leave.  
Jongin will not allow it.

 

However, the second his gaze falls on Yein’s silhouette, any trace of his confident thoughts is swept away from his mind as if a gush of wind had just hit him. His breath gets stuck in his throat, body starting to shake as he stands in the doorway.

One step, two, and then three, eyes never looking away from his sister, Jongin slowly walks in, until he finds himself next to the bed. His ears are buzzing, distant sounds distorted as if he was underwater.

He had almost forgotten how she looked, how beautiful she had always been, so different yet so similar to him.  
Her skin is even paler than it used to be, almost as white as the snow he had become so accustomed to, and he is suddenly afraid to reach out, not wanting to taint her. Her hair looks longer, dark and soft strands resting on her shoulders, down her barely moving rib cage.  
But as a leap back in time, the only thing truly capturing Jongin’s attention is her eyes. Unfocused and hollow, her gaze seems to be looking so far beyond the ceiling, her expression almost dreamy, as if she could truly see the clouds leisurely floating in the winter sky.

She looks so far from Jongin, despite only lying an arm-length away. Far gone in her own world, where her brother cannot reach her, no matter how much he could try. A world she had been forced to live in by her other half, her own twin, her own blood.

Slowly, deliberately, Jongin’s hand moves towards her long and unmoving fingers, until his own are sliding around her palm, securing it in a delicate hold.

Her skin is still warm.

“Yein... It’s me. I came back,” he whispers, closely looking at her face, hoping against all odds she will blink back to consciousness and offer her twin one of the sweet smile she used to grace him with. Perhaps she would even ask what took him so long, “I am here, now.”

But she stays silent and motionless, like a porcelain doll waiting for its owner to leave before it can come to life.

Footsteps echo in the hallway, and a moment later, the Do’s enter the room, preceded by Jongsuk, who steps forward, hand landing on Jongin’s shoulder.

“Come, our parents would like to see you,” he says, then, quieter, with a subtle glance towards the Royal couple and their son, “Let them say goodbye, Jongin.”

Jongin does not want to, but when he turns towards them, seeing the Queen’s bleary eyes, the King pained expression, and Seungsoo’s trembling lips, their three gazes focused on Yein, he reluctantly releases her hand, fingertips brushing against her palm for just one second longer, before letting go.

He follows Jongsuk, a step behind, as he was taught so many years before. If feels like a lifetime has passed, since he walked within those walls. Even Jongsuk’s burgundy hanbok looks foreign, now that his eyes have grown familiar with the faded hues enveloping the Do’s Palace.  
Along the way, the dullness of the cool tones had somehow turned comforting, bringing him a feeling of calm and serenity that might have been related to the way the sapphire shade complimented Kyungsoo’s fair completion. Not that Jongin would ever admit this aloud.

Strangely, Jongsuk does not lead the younger either to the Throne room or their parents’ study. Instead, he walks outside, and towards one of the dependence, as Jongin confusedly trails behind him. Before the younger has the time to remember who used to live there, the Crown Prince is knocking on the door, and as footsteps resonate behind the thin wood, he turns towards his brother.

“You two should spend some time together. He will be able answer any question you could have,” he says just as the door open, revealing a neatly clothed Baekhyun, who looks just as shocked as Jongin is when their eyes meet, “I will introduce Jie Qiong to you later,” Jongsuk adds before walking away, and Jongin only has the time to vaguely recall his brother’s wife name before Baekhyun pulls him inside.

 

As much as Jongin would like for it to be different, their reunion still tastes bittersweet, and after the initial surprise has passed, the two childhood friends conversation diverges towards a subject Jongin would have liked to avoid.  
Baekhyun had apparently helped his father taking care of Yein since Jongin had left, being therefore apt to inform the Prince, like Jongsuk had mentioned.

And so they talk. Or at least, Baekhyun does. He tells Jongin how nothing much had changed for months but then one day, as the Queen was visiting and talking to her daughter like she always did, Yein had blinked and slightly turned her head after hearing her name. Baekhyun tells him how everyone had been delighted, even more so when it happened again a few days later. He tells him how she had however returned to her lethargic state, how nobody had been able to find the reason of that brief regain of consciousness, and how things had gone back to the way there were, for almost a entire year. Until one morning, as Baekhyun was supposed to help feed the Princess, her body had inexplicably rejected the food they had been trying to have her ingest.

Jongin forces himself to tune out his old friend’s voice, eyes looking into space. He does not want to hear about the way her body had started withering, slowly, as the days went by.

“I’m so sorry…” Baekhyun eventually says, reaching out and placing his hand on Jongin’s forearm, “Are you... Are you alright ?”

Jongin is not.

He slowly stands, and without a word, he exits the house, light drizzle damping his face, before he makes his way back to his sister’s bedroom.

He stays by her side for the entire day, tightly holding her hand as people come in and out, paying their last respects to the beloved Princess. Nobody asks him to leave. He would not have complied, anyway.

His eyes remain focused on her face, even as the dim moonlight makes it hard for him to distinguish her features.

“Do you remember, when we were fourteen ?” he asks with a shudder, once he is certain they are alone and cannot hear any footstep coming from the hallway, “You made me promise to tell you, the day I would find someone special to my heart...”

She does not move, does not blink, shallow breaths inaudible in the silent room.

“I have, Yein. I found someone,” he whispers, voice cracking, “And you are not even here to make me keep my promise.”

Jongin tells her nonetheless. He tells her everything that has happened since the day he left their Palace. How lost he felt, how Kyungsoo’s heart seemed as hard and cold as the stone he wore on his finger, how he would sometimes look at Jongin with eyes full of hatred, voice laced with venom, stance both guarded and hostile. He tells her about Yerim.  
He tells her about the loneliness and the tears, about the emptiness and the fear, about the guilt swallowing him whole.

“I wish I could have taken your place, Yein. I wish I could take everything back, and never prayed for you to come back sooner than you were supposed to. I am so sorry, so sorry I could not save you. But Prince Kyungsoo... Kyungsoo, he...” Jongin chokes, shutting his unnaturally dry eyes, “He is away. I prayed for him, every night. And I forgot to pray for you. And now... This is my fault again, is it not ? It has always been my fault. Do you wish our lives could be exchanged ?  Do you wish it too ? Do you hate me, Yein ?”

The light squeeze on his hand has Jongin’s head immediately jerking towards her face, only to witness the same distant look in her tired eyes.  
He knows. He knows very well her hands sometimes twitched, Baekhyun had told him about those involuntary muscle spasms.

But deep inside, Jongin wants to believe Yein tried to reach out to him, using their intertwined fingers to do what she had done all her life. To reassure him. To let him know she still loved him, just as much as he loved her.

So he resumes talking, about how sick he has been, how pessimistic the Doctor was. But how Kyungsoo had stayed by his side, how he had read to him, hummed lullabies in that deep voice of his, how his hand had held Jongin’s own, grounding him, unknowingly bringing him solace, so he could keep going, for one more hour, for one more day.

He talks about the little flame, glowing in his chest, red and warm in the pallid atmosphere of his new home, joyfully flickering in synchronization with his racing heartbeat whenever the elder Prince was near him.  
He talks about the letters, about the worry, constricting his throat, the absence, damping his pillows, the longing, tightening his insides.

He talks for a long time, longer than he ever did in the twenty years he has lived. The thought makes him lift his head towards the window. The moon is bright, high up in the dark sky. Midnight has not come yet.  
After one last glance towards her eyes, he comes closer, unhurriedly, and, lips only a breath away from Yein’s ear and voice barely audible, he sings. Like she had done every year, like a secret, the birthday song’s words roll on his tongue, only for her to hear.

“Happy birthday, Yein,” he whispers in the end, “I love you. I always will,” Jongin pauses, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand, “I will live well for the both of us, I promise.”

Forehead brushing against her temple, he feels more than he hears his sister take a deeper breath. Slowly, she exhales, warm air delicately ruffling a few of her hair, until her chest come to a final stop, and a deafening silence saturates the dark room.

Jongin stays there by her side, even as the first light of dawn illuminates her face, revealing her livid completion and clouded eyes, even as her fingers turn cold in his hands, sending icy waves towards his heart. He does not move, even when people start crowding the room, muffled broken sobs ringing in his ears.  
Some voices, he recognizes, others, he does not.

No one steps near him, nor tries talking to him. Jongin feels numb, barely registering the movements and sounds, attention only focused on the hand in his that he brought against his lips. His eyes are burning, stinging and dry. It all seems so surreal.

She is still so beautiful, like the muse of a painter in a macabre masterpiece; So frail, bones stretching her snowy skin, as if ready to tear it out. Her lips have turned lilac, as if she had just eaten a blueberry and the small fruit had tinted them.  
He had been right, he morbidly thinks, cool tones complimented her a lot.

   
♚

   
The four next days pass in a blur. Jongin remains silent as the entire Kingdom mourns the loss of their Princess. Commoners are congregating around the Palace, more each day, their white clothes making the mass look like a blanket of snow has fallen and encapsulated the Palace in an orb where time had seemingly stopped.  
This is not the way a Princess is usually sent off on her ultimate journey. This is worthy of a Queen. The one Yein had always been meant to be.

Jongin’s mind feels so far away during the procession and the funeral ceremony. His eyes wander, never settling, looking but not seeing, as they bury the magnificent casket she will forever lay in.  
Before her coffin had been sealed, he had placed around her neck an old necklace he had found in her bedroom. Made out of seashells and tied with a white thread Jongin had stolen from a maid’s sewing set, he had instantly remembered his six-year-old self giving the present to his sister, on their birthday. Growing up, she used to wear it, hidden inside the neckline of her hanbok. It somehow felt right for her to keep the fragile jewel as she was put to rest.

 

Jongin still has not pronounced a word when they return to the Palace.

He keeps quiet when his father’s hand rubs his shoulder, and when his mother hugs him. The warm embrace feels foreign, and his mind is too numb to react and hold her back.

His brother eventually comes to stand next to him, accompanied by a girl Jongin is not familiar with, until Jongsuk introduces her.  
_Jie Qiong_.  
His brother’s wife looks young. Even younger than himself, her girlish features contrasting so much with the unmistakable roundness of her stomach.  
He politely bows, face expressionless, even after she leaves, even when Jongsuk grabs his hand, even as he speaks, voice low and constricted.

“I think Yein had been waiting for you,” he says, clearly holding back his tears, “To let go. I think she wanted you to be here when she...”

Jongin withdraws his hand, eyes shifting away, before turning on his heels and slowly walking away.

He wanders in the Palace, ignoring the maids who bow and look at him with bleary gazes.  
His own eyes are still void of any tears, as they have been since he received Jongsuk’s letter.

A light breeze is blowing when he steps out in the vast backyard and makes his way towards the small pond. Even in the dead of winter, the ducks are still paddling in the cold water, uncaring of the somber atmosphere suffocating the Palace.

Queen HyeYeong stands immobile on the bank of the pond, staring in the distance, unaware of Jongin’s presence until he steps by her side and she turns red and swollen eyes towards him, orbs holding something he had never seen before, so different from the disgust that used to fill them before.

Jongin does not know what it is, but it somehow pushes him to take another step forward, arms curling around her shaking frame.  
Silently, and for a long moment, she sobs on his shoulder, hands lifting to grip at his ceremonial cloak.

“I am sorry,” she whimpers between choked wails, tears damping the fabric of his clothes, “I am so sorry for hurting you. You tried so hard, and all I ever did was punish you for something you were not responsible of.” Her voice sounds broken as she cries, and all Jongin can do is deeply breathe in and delicately tighten his hold, “Please forgive me. Please, please...”

As she keeps on begging, Jongin shakily exhales, before nodding, making sure his head is close enough to hers, so she would feel the movement. It only seems to induce a new wave of broken sobs, as she shuffles closer to him, and all the Prince can do is keep her in his arms and wait.

“I would understand if you prefer to remain here, now, instead of living with us,” she says long minutes later, voice hoarse now she has somewhat calmed down.

Jongin still does not say anything. Nor does he shed a tear.  
But his heart painfully clenches around the faint glowing little flame, dimming its light almost to nothingness as he gently guides her back inside the Palace, an arm still secured on her back.

  
 ♚

   
The sun is only starting to emerge on the horizon, the next morning, when his legs instinctively bring him outside of the Palace’s ground, and further, until he stands on the white sand, eyes grazing the endless sea and its calm waves lapping the shore, reflecting the fiery sky.

He sits down on a rock, indifferent to the dampness seeping through his clothes and ruining the delicate fabric.  
It had been so long since he had witnessed the sunrise turning the waters in an ocean of fire, so long since he had tasted the fresh salty sea breeze on his lips, so long since the quiet hum of the waves had brushed his ears in that deep melody he loved so much, gulls cawing in the distance. Even his dreams had not been able to do justice to the beauty of this scene, no matter how often he had returned here during his sleep during the past year.

_I would understand if you prefer to remain here, now, instead of living with us._

There was no malign intention in the Queen’s words. Jongin knows she had not said this to keep him away. The way she had hold onto him was a clear evidence of her genuineness. She had only wanted to give him the choice, to tell him she knows how hurt he had been, how hurt he still is.

So many times he had wished to come back, when loneliness, sorrow and rejection had been too heavy to bear, heart and mind crumbling under the burdensome emptiness he felt.  
But never had he thought he would return for this. To bury his sister in the ground, up the hills where the grass is always green and colorful flowers bloom when comes the spring.

So many times he had wished to come back. But staring at the peaceful ocean now only seems to boundlessly deepen the hollowness of his soul, his mind endlessly searching for something to dissipate the thick darkness.

“Here you are.”

A spark of light flaring in his chest has him turn his head, eyes widening as they search for the source of the low voice breathing those words for the wind to carry towards him.

Jongin blinks a few times, trying to find out if his mind is playing a trick on him, when his gaze falls on Kyungsoo, face illuminated by hundreds of colors as he stands a few steps away, taking Jongin's breath away the second their eyes lock.  
He does not even look real, skin lightly glowing gold and dark orbs solely focused on Jongin.

The younger does not utter a single word as Kyungsoo walks towards him with measured strides.

“You brother told me you might be here,” he says, and Jongin shakily exhales at the sound of his voice, “It took me some time find my way, it is the first time I visit your Palace.”

_Your Palace._

_Your home._

Jongin’s heart protests at the thought, small flame indignantly twitching. It does not sit well in his mind either, but all his attention is stolen, head lifted to look at the man standing in front of him.

“I- I am really sorry I was not able to be present for her burial,” Kyungsoo breathes out, eyes shifting down for half a second before locking them back with Jongin’s own, “I left our base camp as soon as I received my father’s letter, but...”

In a daze, Jongin nods, refusing to avert his gaze, and Kyungsoo takes a small step forward.

“Have you eaten something, today ?” the Prince asks quietly, searching an answer in Jongin’s orbs, concern dancing between his brows.

The younger merely shrugs. He might have, or perhaps not. His numb mind had stopped discerning the world around him the moment Yein had stopped breathing.

Reds, pinks and purples are melting with oranges and golds in the sky above them, dissolving into shades Jongin never knew how to name, as the rising sun glimmers on the sea.

But still, Jongin cannot look away, sitting still on the damp rock.

“Are you...feeling alright ?” Kyungsoo inquires, worry more evident every passing second, “I was told you have not...said anything, since...”

Once more, the elder does not end his sentence, leaving the words hanging in the air. He does not need to, anyway.

Jongin is not alright.

But the flame in his heart is growing steadier the longer he looks into the elder Prince’s eyes.

His own are burning, vision blurring little by little.

And Kyungsoo must see the tears starting to gather there, because the next second, his palm is warm on Jongin’s nape and he pulls the younger towards him.  
His cheek gently collides with Kyungsoo’s stomach and, just as a muted sob breaks the quiet hum of the waves, the elder buries his free hand in Jongin’s untied hair, fingers tangling in between the long locks and nails grazing his scalp.

Finally, Jongin cries. And every single emotion he has kept inside are suddenly surfacing and coming out in heartbreaking wails.

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo whispers, voice slightly cracking as if he was trying to restrain himself, “Don’t hold back,” he then breathes, pressing Jongin closer.

“She’s gone,” Jongin brokenly whimpers before his arms circle Kyungsoo’s waist, fists clenching the back of his military uniform tightly.

“I know,” Kyungsoo answers in a low and wavering tone, “I know... I am so sorry,” he shakily sighs, his fingers still stroking Jongin’s hair, keeping his hold tight and secure behind the younger’s neck.

The sun is well higher, hidden behind thin clouds in the now pale blue sky, when Jongin eventually runs out of tears. Yet, Kyungsoo does not let him go.  
He had started humming a while ago, and when he had noticed his voice seemed to soothe the younger, he had kept going, relentlessly for what felt like hours, until Jongin had finally gone quiet.

None of them move, reluctant to disturb the newfound quietude, unwilling of letting go of each other.

Ear pressed against Kyungsoo’s ribs, Jongin’s eyes are turned toward the sea, shimmering waves winking at him when the sunrays lick their surface, as if telling him everything will be fine.

He knows they are right.

For so long, Jongin had wanted to return, to come back in his Kingdom.  
Because somehow, feeling unneeded was still better than feeling unwanted.

But there are Kyungsoo’s hands on his nape, in his hair, grounding him and keeping him afloat; The sound of his steady heartbeat, beautiful and low harmony singing against the younger’s ear.

There is the warmth spreading in Jongin’s body, both from his heart and from the places in contact with Kyungsoo and the glowing light he can feel brighten his soul from within his chest.

There is the solace the elder had brought him, when Jongin felt like giving up.

There is his smile, sometimes gentle and barely visible, sometimes wide and breathtaking.

There is his voice, deep and suave melody, lulling him to sleep with a gentle hum,  breaking the fog occluding his mind, following Jongin in his dreams even when he dreaded and withdrawn from any other sound.

There are his eyes. Dark and enigmatic, like a sealed locket that could only be open if you found the answer to the riddle dancing deep in those orbs

And there is his heart. This seemingly cold and hard stone Jongin knew would reveal its beautiful iridescent and mysterious reflects, if you held it preciously in the palm of your hands and looked at it close enough, under the right light.

Jongin is willing to spend his entire life discovering him.

So he takes a deep breath, and he asks.

“Can we go home ?”

His voice is hardly above a whisper, but Kyungsoo hears him anyway. The elder gently hums in agreement, fingers lightly rubbing his nape.

“Yes, let us get back inside,” he says, stepping back to look down at Jongin, whose fingers are still gripping his uniform.

“No,” Jongin quietly breathes, shaking his head and locking his gaze with Kyungsoo’s questioning one, “I meant... _home_.”

Kyungsoo stares at him, so many emotions whirling in his orbs; Jongin cannot decipher any of them. But then, a soft smile start growing on his lips, and Jongin knows he understood.

Slowly, eyes never wavering, Kyungsoo nods. His hand reaches out, palm facing the golden sand, smile almost imperceptibly widening.

The flame in Jongin’s heart sparkles. And he carefully intertwines their fingers.

 ♚

   
The carriage is already waiting for them in the courtyard, when Jongin steps out of the Palace, later that night. The Do’s Kingdom having been left without a ruler during their stay here, the King could not afford to remain away any longer.

Jongin had spent a few hours with his own family, and although they had not talked much, he had felt content to be with them, promising he would come back when the baby would be here, and agreeing to send letters from time to time. Kyungsoo had stood by his side all along, back of the hand warm against Jongin’s own, never stepping too far away.

 

The Do’s Princes are standing next to the horses as Jongin makes his way to them. There is something he wants to do, while they are still here.  
He reaches down his belt pocket, fingertips brushing against the familiar feather that had comforted him for so long, back when he had nothing else to hold onto.

“I wanted to give you this,” he says, handing Yein’s hair pin to Seungsoo, “I think...you should have it, now.”

Seungsoo looks down at Jongin’s hand, tentatively retrieving the ornament with utter care, as if he was afraid it would crumble under his fingers, undoubtedly recognizing the present he had himself given to Yein.

“Are you not coming back with us ?” he asks, eyebrow slightly furrowing.

“He is,” Kyungsoo confidently answers for him, before turning towards Jongin, looking unexpectedly hesitant, “But I am not,” he adds, and Jongin’s breath halts, “Not yet... I have to go back to my men. I left in a hurry, but they still need me.”

The younger’s heart misses a beat, not even registering Seungsoo walked away to give them some privacy.

“F- For how long ?

All of a sudden, it feels like a year ago, all over again.

“Not much, I think,” Kyungsoo answers, obviously trying to reassure the younger.

It does not work.

“You said that, last time too...”

“I know,” the Prince apologetically smiles, “But this time I am confident. I will be back before you know it. I promise. So...” He pauses, fingers delicately sliding against Jongin’s palm, “Wait for me ?”

Jongin nods. He would wait for him his entire life, if he had to.

  
 ♚

   
Five months have passed since they left the Kim’s Kingdom, winter giving way to spring, and soon to summer. Five months without a word from Kyungsoo, besides the brief fortnightly reports from the battlefield, and Jongin finds himself missing the man more every minute.

He had found out, through a letter from Jongsuk, that his father, as well as King Choi and King Oh, had joined the offensive against the Chinese army, each of them sending a large battle unit as reinforcement, hoping to defend the country against the onslaught.  
Seungsoo had confirmed, trying to assure the younger it was a good thing, and the war would soon be over. It had, however, done nothing to ebb the rampant fear crawling in Jongin’s veins, every time his mind unwillingly pictured Kyungsoo on the battlefield, fighting for his country, for his men. For his life.

So he tried to keep his mind occupied, to avoid letting the longing and agonizing worry devour him whole. The Do’s had seemed to notice, and had taken upon themselves to help.

The kind would invite him to attend the meetings with his trusted High Councilors, even asking Jongin his opinion on some political affairs; Mostly uncomplicated ones, so the Prince would feel involved but never burdened.

The Queen had also been present for him, starting from the moment they had made their way back to the Do’s Kingdom, sitting beside him in the carriage and silently holding his hand for the major portion of the return journey.  
She often asked Jongin to walk with her in the backyards, now that the arrival of warmer days had made the strolls bearable. She would chat lightheartedly about whatever crossed her mind, and Jongin would shyly answer, the shadow of a smile on his lips.  
She had even sent a letter to Jongdae, apologizing, and offering him his position back at the Palace. The man had politely declined, preferring to remain with his parents to help them as they grew old, but had nonetheless visited Jongin a few times already.

It had felt so foreign, at first, not to be scared, not to avert his eyes from her stares, to see her smile at him, softly, _fondly_. It took almost an entire month for him to stop shying away every time she addressed him, to stop flinching whenever she reached out for his hand, to let his guard down and allow himself to talk with her without that uneasiness twisting his insides.  
Until one night, she had entered Kyungsoo’s bedroom with a tea set in her hands. The candle flame and the moonlight had then been the only witnesses of a long conversation, where tears were shed, apologies breathed out only for them to hear. A talk, not between a Queen and a Prince, but a mother, a brother, two broken hearts who had both lost someone so, so precious.

“I wish I could go back in time,” she had said, voice shaking, and Jongin had simply offered a nod, because he too, would have wanted Yein to be here, healthy and smiling. But then, the Queen had placed her elegant hand on his, “I wish I would have not treated you the way I did. I wish I had not been blinded by my sorrow, and had not blamed you. I wish I had opened up my heart for you, and not made you feel so hurt.”

Jongin had kept still, looking at her with tears brimming in his eyes. Because more than telling him she did not hold him responsible for Yein’s untimely demise, her words seemed to mean she did not wish him gone, that she _wanted_ him here; That, if she could, she would reverse time and welcome Jongin in her life.

And this in itself was so odd for a young man who had always felt pointless and insignificant. The sheer thought was overwhelming.

 

And slowly, as time goes by, his broken soul heals.  
Because stronger than the sorrow of losing her, there is the certitude Yein is not suffering anymore, now. The peace of knowing she is free, flying with the Stars Jongin loves so much, watching over him, and patiently awaiting for the day they would meet again.  
He had promised her he would live well, for the both of them, and he intends on keeping his word.

 

Jongin is walking towards the dining room, one morning, thoughts going back exactly two years in time, to the day he had arrived in the Palace to wed Kyungsoo, when Seungsoo calls his name.

“I will be riding to the nearest village, today,” he says after they exchange comfortable greetings, “Would you like to join me ? It could change your mind for a while.”

Jongin does not take long before he agrees, wondering if he could maybe find a present for Jongsuk’s new born daughter; Something she could look at, growing up, and that would remind her of her uncle, even if he lived far away.

They depart not long after breakfast is over, the Queen sending them off with a wave and a gentle smile, and reach their destination about an hour later.  
The small village is busy, narrow streets buzzing with life as they leisurely walk, boots thumping on the pavement, sometimes stopping to have a talk with merchants.

“Did you need to come for a specific reason ?” Jongin asks after an old lady offered them Kyoho grapes.

“No, I just thought you could use some distraction,” Seungsoo answers, before biting in the fruit and wincing at the acidic juice, “Especially today.”

Of course Seungsoo would remember the date. It had been the day he was supposed to get married to Yein. But somehow, he does not look saddened by the memory.

“Thank you,” the younger breathes, hiding his coy smile behind a grape, happy the elder had found some peace of mind, too.

“Let’s go further west,” the Crown Prince suggests, “Did you not say you wanted to find a present for Princess Haneul ?”

 

The moment Jongin’s eyes fall on the small jewelry box, he knows he does not need to search any longer. Hexagonally shaped, mountains are delicately carved in the dark wood, with thin pearly flakes embedded on the peaks to make it look like an iridescent snow crown.  
It is perfect.

“This is really pretty,” Seungsoo compliments, fingertip brushing the milky fragments, “What is it ? I have never seen this.”

“Nacre,” Jongin smiles, carefully holding the box, “We call it mother of pearl, in my Kingdom. It is found on the inner layer of some seashells.”

“So, it represents you, does it not ?” the Crown Prince grins back, “The mountains from your new home, and something from the sea you love so much.” Jongin slowly nods, before Seungsoo pats his shoulder, “This is a very nice present. I am certain she will treasure it.”

And Jongin really hopes so.

The two end up riding back to the Palace way after the sun has set, with full stomachs, courtesy of the merchants who kept offering them food during the whole day.

“One of the nicest perks of being a Prince,” Seungsoo had said with a chuckle after being handed yet another seasonal fruit.

The elder had insisted to pay every single time, but the people seemed so eager and delighted to please the Princes, most of them had refused. Jongin had even had to force the money into the wood sculptor’s hand, since the old man kept gushing on and on about how he was perfectly content simply knowing the Prince liked his jewelry box enough to purchase it. So Jongin had quickly shoved a handful of coins in the rough palm, way more than the set price, and with a chuckle and a bow as he securely held the jewelry box, he had grabbed an unsuspecting Seungsoo by the arm and walked away swiftly, making sure the man would not try to give the money back.

“Did you enjoy the day ?” the Crown Prince asks, as they unhurriedly make their way towards the Throne room, in order to pay their respects to the Royal couple before retiring for the night.

“I did,” Jongin nods, “I never had much opportunity to leave the Palace, when I was younger. Thank you for bringing me with you today, Hyung-nim.”

“We should do it again, soon,” Seungsoo approvingly grins right before they enter the gigantic room, looking just as delighted as the day Jongin firstly called him that way, no matter how many times the younger had done it since.

Queen HyeYeong is on her feet a moment later, rapidly marching towards them with a wide smile, the King letting out a quiet chortle as he watches her.

“Finally, you have returned,” she exclaims, sounding surprisingly enthused, or at least, more than Jongin has ever witnessed, “You must be exhausted, son,” she adds, “Why would you not go to bed early, tonight ?”

Standing next to Jongin, Seungsoo laughs.

“I am not tired, Mother. And I still have documents I need to look into,” he pleasantly argues, shaking his head at her maternal outpouring.

But then, in turn, the Queen chuckles, confusing Jongin even further.

“I am aware,” she remarks, “But Seungsoo, you were not the one I was speaking to.”

Jongin knows his eyes must be the size of the nashi pears he and the Crown Prince had eaten earlier in the afternoon, knows his face must look amusing, as bewilderment makes way to astonishment.

 _Son_.

“M- Me ?”

“Y- You,” she grins, teasingly mimicking his stutter in a gentle voice, “Now go,” she adds, elegantly nudging her chin towards the door, “You have deserved it.”

“Did I not ?” Seungsoo interjects jokingly, seemingly uncaring of her enigmatic tone.

“You have documents to look into, you said so yourself,” she humors her son mischievously as her hand pats Jongin’s forearm.

She insists once more for him to go and rest, and eventually, still stunned by the affectionate way she had addressed him, Jongin complies. He respectfully bows to the King and his spouse, bidding them a good night, before exiting the Throne room and walking to Kyungsoo’s room, remaining in a daze the entire way.

 _Son_.

The word, pronounced with such fondness, was still ringing in his mind, bouncing all around, as if trying to carve itself in his memory, trying to convince him he had not imagined it.

He had heard the King and Queen use it quite a lot, when they spoke to the Princes, and had always wondered what it would feel like to be the one being called like this in a loving intonation, so different from the way his own father used it.  
But never had he thought it would, one day, happen to him. Never figured she, out of all people, would be the one to address him like that.

Having yet to recover from his astounded state, Jongin eventually reaches his destination and nonchalantly slides the door open, the familiar grating sound of the wood assuring him his preoccupied mind had not mistakenly led him in another room.

 _You have deserved it_.

Those were Queen HyeYeong’s words. They had sounded quite mysterious, leaving Jongin in wonder.

But right at this moment, he no longer questions their meaning.

Now he understands her enthusiasm, the light bounce in her steps, and the delight in her tone.

Because in front of him, wearing night clothes and holding a book, head resting against the headboard, Kyungsoo is lying on the bed, looking like a dream and a miracle all at once.

Jongin wants to cry, he wants to laugh, he wants to scream.

Instead, he remains in the doorway, frozen in silence. He barely even notices the cuts and bruises marking the Prince’s face, his mind both empty and swaying with too many thoughts he cannot figure out.

He wants to run, race towards the man and stand close, closer to him. But he wants to stay right where he is and stare at him until he has convinced himself Kyungsoo is not yet another illusion, a mirage his own mind has created to ease the longing in his heart, like it had, so many times in his sleep.

 

It feels like an eternity, before Kyungsoo finally looks up from his book and notices the younger, whose gaze is still attempting to ingrain the unreal vision in his mind, his heart, his soul.

And if watching him undetected had made Jongin’s heart flutter, the second their eyes lock, dark orbs meeting dazzled ones, the little flame inside his chest explodes in a thousand glowing sparkles, roaring as Jongin loses his breath.

Fingertips tingling, wobbly legs and ears buzzing, Jongin stares, stares, and stares again.

He is here.

Kyungsoo is truly here, right in front of him, serenely looking back, eyes imperceptibly shifting over the younger’s features.

And Jongin has no idea what to do.

Because Kyungsoo is here, on his bed. And Jongin had been using this very bed for more than a year, now. All of his belongings are in this room, scattered all around, messily laying on the sofa, orderly settled in the chest of drawers, neatly arranged on the desk.  
But Kyungsoo is here. And alongside the enchantment bubbling in Jongin’s chest, there is also the fear, creeping up his nape and twisting his insides.

Will he have to leave ?

Kyungsoo had let the younger remain in his room while he was sick, without objecting, even when he had had to spend some nights on the cabriole. Then he left.

But now that he has returned, what is Jongin supposed to do ?

The last memory he has of Kyungsoo is the elder’s hand holding his own, asking Jongin to wait for him as the moon was rising above the Kim’s Palace.

But what about now ? They had not exchanged any letters in those long months following that day.

Jongin had waited for him. But what if the elder Prince had changed his mind along the way ?

Anxious, he keeps looking at Kyungsoo, who still has to avert his eyes.  
He waits, and waits some more, for what feels like hours. For a change is the elder’s intense expression. For a variation in the tense air. For his heartbeat to slow down.

But then, Kyungsoo’s gaze shifts. One second, he is looking down at the spot right next to him on the bed, and the next, his eyes are back on the younger.

And maybe Jongin is wrong, perhaps he is really misinterpreting this, but somehow, it looks like a silent invitation.  
So, after hesitating for a few more breaths, Jongin makes his way to the bed, shedding his thin coat, and slowly, carefully, nervously, he lies down next to the Prince, keeping a prudent distance between them.

However, it seems Kyungsoo is having none of this, and suddenly, he is putting his book away and circling Jongin’s shoulders with an arm before gently pulling him closer.

Face flushed, the younger slides until he lies on his side, pressed against Kyungsoo’s flank, and hands curled under his chin. Closing his eyes as he rests his head against the Prince’s shoulder, he takes a deep breath, letting Kyungsoo’s soapy and leathery scent invade his senses, back muscles relaxing at the comforting smell.

“Jongin ?”

With a shaky exhale as quiet as his name has just been breathed out, the younger slightly turns his head, nose brushing the white silk of Kyungsoo’s night garment, until half of his face is concealed by the strong shoulder.

In his mind, his name had only ever been a mere combination of his siblings’ ones. But coming out of Kyungsoo’s lips, without any honorific hindering the affection in his tone, it sends a shudder down his spine, heart singing a tune for the little flame to dance to.

He had missed that voice so much. Just as much as its owner.

And he still does. Jongin still misses him.  
Even as their body lie, pressed together, he misses Kyungsoo. As if his mind was scared he would wake up from a dream and find the bed empty, next to him.

“You are shivering,” Kyungsoo mutters, “Are you alright ?”

The tone is soft, barely above a murmur, but the concern it holds resonates louder than the wolves howling in the distance, bringing a small smile on Jongin’s lips before he lowly hums with a subtle nod, delicately rubbing his cheek against the elder’s shoulder.

Kyungsoo exhales, tightening his arm around Jongin’s shoulders, until the younger’s head is nestled in the crook of his neck, his nose brushing against the scab of a healing wound. And eyes still closed, Jongin feels a warm hand wrapping around his own, bringing it to lay right where the elder’s heart rests.

_  
“I think you will know because that person will make your heart feel less heavy when it is full of sorrow. They will be someone you can lean on, someone who will hold you and keep you afloat when you feel like everything else is drowning you.”_

  
Yein’s words come to his mind as he feels Kyungsoo’s pulse against his forehead, beating in a calm tempo his own heart is naturally adjusting to.

Back then, he had silently listened to her, certain his life would never take a path along which he would get to experience this kind of feelings.  
He had never imagined he could one day cherish someone so profoundly, never thought solace could be found lying in someone’s arms.

For so long, Jongin had wished he could go back, in time and space.  
Because feeling unneeded was still better than feeling unwanted.  
But somewhere along the way, things had changed.

“Jongin...”

The younger’s eyelids flutter open as Kyungsoo breathes out his name once more. Not in a call, but more as if he was trying to taste it, and his gaze falls on Kyungsoo’s hand, on his fingers still intertwined with his own, on the red stone faintly glistening in the pale candlelight, the two parts shifting and slightly moving apart as the elder tighten his hold.

 _  
“Garnets are the stones of love and devotion. When you offer one to the person you love, it is a promise. A vow to make them feel grounded, safe and secure,”_ Seungsoo had explained what feels like a lifetime ago.

  
So Jongin asks.

Because all he had ever wanted was to belong somewhere. Somewhere he could lie at night, sheltered, and just breathe, exist, and rest. Somewhere he would not have to worry, or pretend. Somewhere he would not have to hide, would not have to be scared.  
Somewhere warm and safe.

And at this very moment, Jongin thinks Kyungsoo’s heart is a good place to live in.

So he asks.

“Can I be yours ?”

Barely audible, the whisper glides across Kyungsoo’s skin, the warm breath against his neck sending a slight shiver through the elder’s entire body, his embrace tightening instinctively.

For a long moment, Kyungsoo remains silent and still, and Jongin patiently awaits.

Until the elder disconnects their palms, and brings his hand towards the one resting on Jongin’s shoulder.  
Before the younger has the time to wonder, the hand is back next to his own.

And slowly, the younger’s eyes follow the red glint moving up, up, up, as Kyungsoo slides half of the Garnet heart ring on Jongin’s index. When he laces their hands once more, the rings collide in a light and joyful sound, as if happy to finally have found the places meant for them.

Jongin withdraws his head from Kyungsoo’s neck, just enough so he can look up at the man, and blinks at him, searching for an answer in those dark orbs still holding secrets Jongin wishes to unravel.

He does not dare hoping. Not yet.

Kyungsoo keeps his gaze captive in his own for a moment, the shadow of a tender smile curving one side of his mouth, before he pulls the younger closer, once more.

Jongin's face instinctively nestles back in the Prince's neck, and Kyungsoo's fingers secure their hold on his hand with a content sigh. Slowly, he turns his head until his lips brush Jongin's temple, and the red glow  flashes brighter in the younger's chest.

Neither of them move for a long time, reveling in each other's affection, their need for closeness soundlessly mirroring one another's.

Then, quietly, only for Jongin's heart to hear, Kyungsoo murmurs :

“I think you have been mine all along.”

The little flame twinkles as a tear rolls down the younger’s cheekbone, falling on Kyungsoo’s collarbone.

Jongin smiles.

He is safe, now. Home, at last.

And in the quiet room, their heartbeats finally harmonize in a silent melody solely meant for them.

 

 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again !  
> Is anyone still there ?  
> I must have lost some of you along the way.  
> But if you're reading this note, I truly hope you enjoyed this story.  
> I put my whole heart in it. And even more than that.  
> So if you did make it until the end, thank you. This is already a gift in itself. So thank you. It means so much to me.
> 
> In case some of you wanna talk directly with me, I'm @Minty_Pixie on Twitter. Feel free to come and say hi !
> 
> [ **Edit :** For those re-reading this story, you might have noticed a slight change in the ending. This was actually the original way I had planned an written it. And I changed it at the very last minute before submitting the fic for the fest. The thing is, I have come to realize I loved the original version much more, because it feels way more fitting in the pace of their relationship. After all, they do care about each other, a whole lot, but at the point of the story, they are not in love. So I took the decision to change it back. And I really hope you like it that way, and that you understand why I made that choice.  
>  Thank you for all the love you are giving to this story <3<3<3<3]


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